To Love or To Destroy
by Raven-Rach
Summary: When Clary suddenly goes missing, Jace takes it upon himself to find her. But how long can he keep her absence a secret? And how long will it be before it's too late? Then what would happen if the roles are reversed? Rated T for a Teenage book.
1. Chapter 1

**Just a Fic I'm running on the Pandemonium Forums. A summary isn't really necessary- once you read the first chapter you will get the general gist. So... yeah... let me know what you think! Updates- like most of mine- should be pretty regular! =]**

_Disclaimer- all in the possession of the fantastic author that is Ms. Cassandra Clare... drat!  
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To anyone in Taki's that day, the couple in the corner booth would seem to be exactly that- a couple. A startlingly handsome young man with golden hair and a petite girl with pretty looks and flaming copper hair sat across from each other, staring and holding hands. He was obviously a Shadowhunter, with black Marks etched on his skin and the very faint, smoky smell of them lingered in the air. Yet, had anyone taken enough interest to listen to their conversation they would be shocked to discover that the happy couple were far from a couple, and far from happy.

"I'll just be your brother from now on," he said as the girl's face fell for a split second in pain. "That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

Masking her feelings completely, it took her a long time to answer. "Yes," she finally replied. "That's what I wanted."

Jace, although his heart felt even more broken now then ever, thought that the confrontation in Taki's had gone as well as he could have hoped for. Clary had even hugged him before they went their separate ways. But it had been a brotherly hug- he thought bitterly, something shared between siblings.

Jace was primarily one of two things- silent or sarcastic. But Clary had rendered him utterly perplexed. She mixed him up and made him want to change his core beliefs- the belief that love was pain, that to love was to destroy. While he didn't want to believe in love, didn't want to admit to having anything to do with it- he wasn't sure if he was able to deny it. When he looked the stubborn, flaming haired siren that was Clary, he felt different. He suddenly didn't care only about himself or his duty as a Shadowhunter- he wanted to protect her, to keep her away from his world but never leave her side. It was a feeling he both loathed and loved. Somewhat like Clary herself- he though he might love her but hated what she was. His sister. A person he couldn't physically, emotionally or mentally bring himself to hate. No matter how hard he tried.

Although he felt that his lie-filled conversation with Clary had gone well, Jace had not heard from her at all during the two days that followed. He had been pondering this as he sharpened the weapons in the armoury when suddenly the phone rang, instantly shattering his peaceful shroud of muddled thoughts.

LUKE CALLING flashed up on the cracked screen. Jace gave a weary sigh- Luke was a nice guy, a Werewolf and a Downworlder but nonetheless a nice guy. However, Jace was not going to turn into Clary and suddenly start seeking some kind of paternal support from this man- Jace had a family of sorts in the Lightwoods, but he treasured his independence.

"Yes," he drawled, answering the incessant ringing.

Luke's voice crackled through the line. "Ah, Jace. Sorry to bother you but could you just hand Clary the phone for a sec? She won't answer hers. I know she is staying at the Institute- and don't get me wrong, I'm all for that- but she hasn't visited Jocelyn for the last few days and I thought maybe I could give her a lift. I'm going there now and I was thinking maybe you could come too? I just-"

"Whoa, hold up Wolf Man," the Shadowhunter interrupted, cutting short Luke's ramblings. He clearly wasn't a phone man- either that or the immense amounts of coffee he had been consuming to stay awake were really taking effect. "What do you mean Clary is staying at the Institute? She's with you."

"Yeah, nice one Jace: mess around with the lowly Downworlder. Pass the phone to Clary please," he chuckled humourlessly and it wasn't difficult to picture him rolling his tired eyes.

"Luke, I haven't seen Clarissa in two days." In that moment Jace felt his heart stop before quickly restarting at double speed. He almost let the rolling waves of nausea take him over as he realised the seriousness of the situation.

Luke's voice was frantic and he was jumping to spectacular conclusions. Once more, Jace cut in. "Hey, hey, Luke! Listen up- I was only messing. Clary is fine, Isabelle dragged her off to Taki's- something about wanting girl advice on some faerie that caught her fancy. They won't be long, Clary mentioned going to the hospital some time tomorrow."

A tangible sigh of relief spoke louder for Luke then words ever could. "Never shock me like that again Jace, you now how much I worry about Clary!" He laughed gruffly. "But seriously- I know this is hard for you but won't you just consider visiting Jocelyn? She is your mother too-"

"What's that Alec? Yeah I'm coming! Sorry Luke, have to help Alec… boil some spaghetti. Talk to you soon." The phone line went flat with a final beep and Jace allowed his fear to take him over.

What was she doing? What the hell was going through Fray's mind? He had done it! He told her what she wanted to hear, he drove a poison-tipped arrow through his already damaged heart just for her- what more did she want? Did she have any idea how much she made him suffer by pulling ridiculous stunts like this? Grabbing his stele, Jace forced himself to calm down. Nothing was certain yet. He knew what he had to do.

Jace had to pay a visit to the Mundane.

No, scratch that. Jace had to pay a visit to the Vampire.

He growled at the mere thought.


	2. Chapter 2

_Well, here is chapter 2! Huge thank you to everyone who took the time to read and especially those who reviewed! Thanks everyone. Hope you like this chapter- let me know what you think =]_

**Disclaimer- Yeah... Not mine...**

Simon was becoming a master of deceit. He would get up each morning, pretending to rub imaginary sleep from his eyes and faking a yawn for the benefit of his innocent mother. It almost made him chuckle sardonically- imagine if his poor mother ever discovered what her precious son was?! A Downworlder, a Vampire, a Creature of the Night… a monster through and through. Even now, as he went to answer the door, he pretended to stumble as he passed his mother in the kitchen. As if a vampire would be that graceless. Hah!

The person on the other side of the door was practically pounding on it- not simply knocking once or twice and waiting, but banging again and again without stopping. It was like the incessant pounding of a pneumatic drill driving into a solid roadside. Simon rolled his eyes and grumbled to himself at the impatience of some Mundanes as he yanked open the barrier between him and a certain Shadowhunter.

"Jace?" A look of unmasked surprise crossed Simon's features. "Ehhh… how can I help you?" He sounded unsure of himself as he presented this offer of help.

The Shadowhunter looked dishevelled and preoccupied, his hair windswept due to the large motorbike currently parked outside Simon's home. "Let me see Clary. I don't know what she thinks she's playing at, but let me see her right now." Jace's tone was commanding and straight to the point as per usual, but his voice was tinged with anxiety.

"Look, I don't know why you think Clary is here, Jace. But-"

"No," growled the Shadowhunter. He grabbed Simon by the collar and shoved him up against the wall of his own home. The look in his bright eyes was terrifying, Jace was a warrior and a killer, and Simon had never exactly been the boy's best friend as it was- but now he felt truly threatened. "Don't give me that. Let me see her. Now, bloodsucker! Or so help me, I'll-"

"Jace," Simon choked out. "I don't know what the hell is going on but Clary is not here. Try Luke's place." Jace stared into his dark eyes as if trying to identify sincerity.

"And for God's sake," Simon hissed. "Let me down before my mother walks out here and tries to beat you with her handbag!"

Jace slowly lowered the Downworlder until his feet touched the tarmac once more. They glared at each other with silent animosity. "What is going on, Wayland?" Simon demanded, brushing off his clothes. He had become somewhat more confident since becoming a member of the living dead.

"Nothing," replied Jace. "Just wanted to drop in for a friendly cup of tea, but once I got here I decided it would be more fun to watch you being pinned to a wall. Don't bother that little undead heart of yours with worries about my family. Call me if you see her, Dracula."

Simon stood speechless as the Shadowhunter briskly sped away in a badass cliché of tight black clothes and loud motorbike revs, the light breeze teasing at his golden hair. "Just someone selling Bibles, Mum." he called in response to her question.

Yes, Simon was becoming quite the master of deceit. Laughing at the ridiculous image of Jace Wayland going from door to door selling Bibles, the vampire slunk back into his house to text his best friend who was apparently Missing In Action.

*****

Jace Wayland was in a bad way. He was turning into a mush of sappy human emotions and he detested it with every fibre of his being. Cruising over the city on his stolen motorcycle, he cast a sharp eye on all the Mundies and Downworlders alike below. The last time he had been on this particular bike, Clary's arms had been wrapped tightly around him as her long, red hair tickled the back of his neck. And now, Clary was nowhere to be found. She was not at the Institute, she was not at the bloodsucker's abode, she was not at the hospital and she was not at the Werewolf's flat either. Jace had no idea as to where else she could be.

Unwilling to let himself imagine the alternative- that Valentine had managed to get his filthy hands on her- Jace preferred to blame Clarissa herself. Surely this was just a silly ploy to get some attention, or a means of escape from this new life. How could she do this to him? Didn't she know how she affected him? No one else had ever held this kind of power over him, not Alec or Isabelle or their parents. Not even his father. Her father. Their father. By the Angel, how it cut him to pieces to say that. Jace Wayland did not open up to people, he did not let them become too close and he certainly never let them override his heart and his head like Clarissa Fray had.

She was his sister. The only reason he was so worried was because she was his sister, and all big brothers hated to see anything happen to their little sisters. He was supposed to be there to pick her up when she fell down, to size up boys like Simon and threaten to break their faces if they broke her heart. He wasn't supposed to love her himself, she wasn't supposed to break his heart. Jace Wayland- Jace Morgenstern- was not supposed to have a heart.

Yet, Clary's Jace was a different story altogether. No matter how hard he tried, the person he became around her was completely different. Jace Wayland lived for hunting, he lived for the fight, Jace Morgenstern was a masochist who lived for pain, Clary's Jace lived for Clary. It was a messed up arrangement, three people fighting for dominance in the one body; each breaking through at different intervals. The though of it alone made the Shadowhunter's head spin and ache.

Shutting down his tumultuous thoughts, Jace cut the engine and landed by the greenhouse at the Institute. He needed to stock up on a few things before he resumed his search for Miss Clarissa Fray. No matter how long it took, he would find her. If it killed him, he would find her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys, I'm so sick that I had to come home from school- so I thought 'what can I do while wallowing in misery and a sea of tissues?' Then I figured I would post this to pass my time! If there are mistakes it's because my head is throbbing so much I can't focus on my laptop screen.  
****Once again- massive thanks to everyone who reads and reviews! =] Enjoy, let me know what you think!**

As Clary sat in Taki's on that fateful day, she focused all her energy on swallowing her threatening tears and staying strong as her heart broke into tiny shards in her chest, cutting like glass. Her throat constricted tightly around what appeared to be a lump of granite in her trachea and her eyes burned acridly. Burning hot tears were brimming behind her rapidly blinking irises. But Clarissa Fray would not let the handsome Shadowhunter sitting across from her see her pain. Her head screamed and roared in protest 'No! No, no, no, Jace! It's not what I want! I want you… I want what I can never have…' The strong grip of his hand upon hers only worsened the pain, it was the comforting grip of a protective older brother on his little sister's hand. Clary hated it, but she didn't want him to ever let go. She cast a glance down at the "food" on her plate- a raw hamburger… Clarissa Fray now knew exactly how that felt. Raw. Raw pain, dead meat. The hug she gave him as they walked away was just the icing on the cake. The match thrown on her crushed heart. Love was pain.

Going to Simon's wasn't an option- Clary still felt awkward since their 'break-up'. Not that they had been the next Romeo and Juliet, but it was still… uncomfortable. The Institute was now to be treated like a pariah, that was the one place Clary was starting to think she could never face again. Luke was wonderful: he would ask her how she was and talk through her problems, care for her and be comforting. A self-appointed stand-in Dad. The girl with flaming waves of copper hair didn't want that right now. At that moment in time she wanted to drown in her sorrows and let her breaking pain envelop her- her newfound masochism was clearly a sign of Jace rubbing off on her. So to the hospital she went. Despite trying to stay strong, Clary cried all the way in short bursts of stifled, heart-wrenching sobs.

Trudging up the disinfected steps, Clary's nose twitched at the overly-bleached odour of cleanliness and hygiene. The stark smell stung her delicate, tear-stained eyes. At the top of the stairs, a slivery-haired woman dressed in a black, velvet, hooded cloak and dress. The eccentric looking lady was peering in the window at Clary's mother and she was shrouded in magic, hiding her from the vision of Mundanes.

"Look, if you're here to see me, just tell me what you want. I'm not really in the mood for all this glamour and secrecy stuff right now."

The hooded woman turned, letting Clary see her wrinkled face as the strands of spun silver wisped around her rounded face. "Clarissa," she breathed. "Oh my dear, I am sorry. My name is Madeleine Bellefleur, I was a friend of Jocelyn's in Idris…"

"Only family can visit. You can see her once she gets better," Clary said coldly, she wasn't up to this. All the girl wanted to do was see her comatose mother and wallow in her own misery. Pushing past the invisible woman, Clary approached the hospital room she had become so accustomed to.

"But she won't get better," Madeleine said softly. "I can help, Clarissa. And I'm the only one who can."

Looking into those deep, steely eyes of the complete stranger in front of her, Clarissa Fray made a decision. With a final glance at her prone mother, she swiftly exited the hospital. Screw wallowing in self-pity and loathing, Clarissa was going to be active for once.

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_SIMON CALLING_

Jace quickly pulled up on the side of the street and answered his phone. Hope started to rush through his veins for a change.

"Yes, Lestat?" he answered smoothly, masking the eagerness that wanted to break free in his tone of voice.

"I'm hurt, brother dearest, that you can answer the calls of someone you claim to detest and yet you refuse to answer mine," Jace mentally gulped. "I swear to the Angel, Jace, if you were anywhere near me you would feel the wrath of my whip."

"Isabelle, it's not personal. I just-"

"Don't." growled the feminine voice. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, thought Jace, how true it was. "Have you been sleeping Jonathon? Eating?"

It had been another two days since he had initially discovered Clary was missing. He had not been at the Institute for three days, obviously his absence had not gone unnoticed. "Yes, Iz, I have been eating and sleeping," he answered wearily. At the same time he scoffed under his breath- of course he hadn't been eating or sleeping, he was much too busy failing everybody to do those menial tasks.

"Where?!" she demanded.

"At… a friend's place."

Isabelle snorted. "You don't have any, Rumplestiltskin." Suddenly, her voice became soft and Jace could hear her rustling movements in the background. He assumed that the vampire was no longer at her side. "Jace, seriously, we're worried. Alec is frantic. I know that something is up, I know you are going through some stuff but we care about you. We're your family, Jace, and we know you need space but we can help you through whatever this is. What's going on?"

"Nothing, Iz. I'm fine. Quit worrying, I'll be back sometime," he said gruffly. "I have to go-"

Isabelle's shriek flew down the mobile. "No! Jonathon Christopher Wayland, do not dare hang up on me! I don't see you in three days, I get a call from Simon saying that you turned up in some sort of crazed state and then you don't answer my calls and neither will Clary. Jace get your Marked behind back here before I go to the weapons room and-"

Jace hung up with a sigh, effectively cutting off Isabelle's screams as he wondered if there had been a banshee somewhere along the line in her geneanology.

Clarissa Fray was a wanted woman. But where the hell was she?


	4. Chapter 4

**Being sick makes me irritated... but reviews make me happy! So I will post another chapter even though I am lying here in bed feeling rotten! Might as well do something productive I suppose! Currently putting together oneshot by the way for those out there who said they liked them. Thanks for reading people! =]**

Magnus Bane was just about to feed his cat, Chairman Meow, when his front door began to rattle off its hinges.

"The luminescent doorbell is there for a reason," he called. The person on the other side only thrashed the wood harder as a response. The High Warlock rolled his eyes, they could wait- he told himself as he preened himself in a large mirror. The bright lights around the rim illuminated his glitter speckled eyes effectively.

"Open up, Dumbledore!" roared a harsh voice.

Sighing dramatically, Magnus pointed towards the door and it lightly swung in. Leaning against the jamb, like a fallen angel in an ensemble of black clothes and golden hair, stood Jace Wayland. The smart-talking, good-looking bad boy himself.

"What can I do you for, Nephilim? A make-over perhaps? Some colour to prove that you aren't constantly in mourning?"

"Black works well on me, warlock, and we both know it."

Magnus shrugged his spangly -purple clad shoulders non-committedly as a way of response. "Maybe it's a spell you need then. If I remember correctly I have just the right potion to diminish that conceited, self-obsessive ego you possess."

Jace opened his mouth to reply. Judging by the sparkling gleam in his eyes, it was bound to be an answer laced with sarcastic wit.

"Don't bother, Shadowhunter. Just get that sassy attitude of yours inside before the neighbours start to talk."

"I doubt it's this particular Shadowhunter that causes your neighbours to talk," he muttered under his breath as he entered the Technicolor explosion that was the High Warlock of Brooklyn's home.

Without turning around, Magnus sang back "I heard that!" as he sank into the bright pink marshmallow that was his sofa. The Gilmore Girls danced across the screen before the warlock switched it off.

Sitting back on the shockingly vivid monstrosity, Jace wearily shut his eyes. "Not denying it though are you, Oh Master of all things Glitter-coated?"

"As much as I would like to discuss this Jace, I sincerely doubt that's why you are here destroying my ambiance with your gloomy wardrobe and disrupting glare."

"Clary," he said with finality.

"What?" the Warlock in bright blue leather pants blurted out eloquently. Despite having had to keep the Shadowhunter under house arrest with him for a short amount of time, Magnus had never fully been able to work out the complex enigma that was Jace Wayland.

"Clarissa Fray. I need… to find her. So I came here."

"Surprisingly, my first option would have been her own home, not the luscious abode of a devilishly handsome Warlock that the girl is vaguely acquainted with." His tone was dry- maybe the sickening rainbow that engulfed every surface was slowly leaching the friendliness out of him as the conversation progressed.

Magnus, for a moment, was stupefied. He had expected yet another sardonic witticism, during his time spent with Jace he had come to enjoy the sharp verbal exchanges the shared. But now… he glimpsed a side of Jonathon Wayland that he never could have believed existed. The Shadowhunter, the Nephilim, the Warrior with all his scars, strength and sarcasm- for that instant looked like a lonely young boy swamped in clothes that didn't suit him with their heavy implications. The Stele poking out of his pocket could have been a slingshot. At that one moment in time, Jace Wayland was not a fierce soldier; he was just a regular, conflicted teenager.

And then the moment passed. Jace's golden eyes became hard and steely once more and the big walls he built around himself sprung up again. "Funnily enough, I'm smarter than you look. So yes, Warlock, I did check the Werewolf 's den before I came here. Just like I paid a cordial visit to the Vampire's lair. I even ventured into that bloody hospital where Jocelyn is lying in a state of vegetable-like comatose. You, Magnus, are the next in line by my excellent powers of deduction."

"Jace… I'm sorry, truly I am… but-"

The boy let his head fall into his hands and he grabbed his golden locks fiercely in his calloused fingers.

"No." his voice was muffled but it sounded painfully broken. "She has to be here. She doesn't know anyone else in this damned forsaken city. Tell me you've seen her, Bane. Just tell me you've heard from her or heard of her, or… something. Anything, Warlock!"

Magnus surveyed him through heavily glittered eyelashes in surprise. He had never seen the person before him display so much emotion or appear so human. "I wish I could," he sighed. "I can look into it though, if you like?"

Jace nodded. He might have been letting down his defences a little, but it was still beneath his pride to utter the word 'please'.

"So what exactly happened?" Magnus quizzed as he fixed up some type of fruity drink with shiny umbrellas swimming in the frosted glass. Offering one to Jace, the blonde snorted disdainfully. The undeterred Warlock shrugged and sipped through his orange, candy striped straw.

"She disappeared five days ago. Last time I saw her was at Taki's, haven't heard from her since. Luke told me that she was missing two days later." Jace who usually looked straight into the eyes of the person he was addressing, was now staring at the elaborate crystal candleholder on the marble coffee table. His penetrating gaze was lost on the inanimate objects.

"Who else is helping you to look for her?" Jace could feel the words being coaxed of him but he still wanted to resist and speak as little as possible in a childish sullen manner.

"I work alone." he said coldly. And he was telling the truth, on this one he wasn't dragging in any other forces to get in the way. This was Clary, this was for him to solve and him alone.

Magnus simply raised an eyebrow. "What about Graymark? Clarissa is the closest thing the Alpha has to a daughter."

"He does not, and will not, know. I am going to find Clary and no one will ever need to know anything about her little holiday."

"Look, Jace, I doubt that this is merely a vacation. You know who you are and you know who Clarissa is- and more importantly, you know what Valentine is like. She could be in danger, and each day that passes could-"

"Valentine is her father," Jace interrupted with a stony façade. "He wouldn't touch her- not until he used her to get whatever he wants." Taking a deep breath, he ran a marble-pale hand through his tangled hair. Somehow, Magnus noticed, this only highlighted the stark purple bruises under his eyes from obvious lack of sleep. "I will find her and you, Warlock, you will swear to keep quiet. Not a word to anyone- not Luke, not Maryse, nobody.

"And Alec… Isabelle and Alec, they cannot know that I was here. They can't know that you have seen me. Got it?"

"Jonathon, you can't expect me to-"

The determined young man stood up, regaining his usual appearance of a tall, strong badass. There really was no simpler way of describing him, mused Magnus. No wonder Chairman Meow had scarpered- Jace looked like he would eat him just for kicks.

Magnus rose from his seat- hands out placating before him. With startling speed, the darkly dressed young man grabbed Magnus's right hand, encasing it in a tight grip with his.

"You will swear to me that no living soul will know anything about our encounter today or the matters that were discussed. Say it."

Gritting his pearly white teeth, Magnus forced out the words "I swear."

"Good. You will be bound by your word. By the Angel Raziel your word will be your bond." They did not shake on it, Jace simply squeezed the Warlock's ringed hand tightly for emphasis and briskly turned, leaving the room with his onyx jacket billowing masterfully behind him.

"He strode in here as a Shadowhunter, and he is leaving in the same manner. A true Nephilim," Magnus thought wryly, shaking out his throbbing hand. Had he ever dared to reveal how broken and emotional Jace had been, no one would have believed him anyway.

"Bound by my Word and bound by the Angel… But never doubt my weaselling abilities, Shadowhunter, for they are epic and memorable in their scope……"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 has arrived! Thank you so much to all the readers and reviewers!!! You guys are pure legends! =]**

Isabelle was in a bad mood- to put it lightly. Alec had come up with a much more suitable term- "royally pissed off and long past furious." Her eight inch heels sent spectacular, clattering sound effects throughout the Institute as she stormed about. Alec winced as he heard pots clanging against each other in a cacophony of awful noise. Each smash was interlaced with high pitched shrieks at a frequency that only a dog's finely tuned ears could pick up. You see, when Isabelle was in such foul moods there were only two ways she attempted to deal with the stress.

One: she went out with a sharpened weapon and a fierce glare and killed demons.

Or Two: she cooked.

Since their parents had gone to Idris at the beginning of the week, they were left babysitting Max, and Alec blatantly refused to let his darling sister embark on one of her adventures alone- so Isabelle was now manufacturing nuclear bombs in the kitchen. Or at least that's what it sounded like.

The acrid smell of burning spread through the doorways and Alec groaned. Max gazed up at him in wide-eyed shock… or horror, Alec wasn't too sure. Frustrated growls like that of a vicious lioness never ceased as Isabelle muttered and screeched to herself. She was being unbelievably… over-emotional, thought her brother. The name 'Jace' was often spat with frantic distaste along with a colourful assortment of words that were far from suitable for young Max's ears. The inevitable sound of crockery crashing to the ground with a resounding ringing, brought the dark-haired Shadowhunter into Isabelle's current lair of doom. He arrived just in time to see the raven-haired beauty that was his sister hurl a large baking tin to the floor.

Tentatively, he latched his fingers around her wrists. "How about we take a break?" he suggested.

"We? **WE** aren't doing anything! I am doing everything! You aren't even looking for him!" her feral scream pierced his eardrums. "You and that sister of his! She might as well still be a Mundie for all she does. Stupid redhead won't even answer a phone call- it's becoming very clear that they are related! Stubborn, headstrong-"

"Izzy," Alec sighed wearily. "Just calm down. I get it, really I do, but just stop overreacting for a moment. Jace is our family. Jace is… absent… but we know that he is alright- you spoke to him on the phone. He needs space, Iz, he always has. Right now, things are probably really messed up in his head and that goes for Clarissa too- I mean look who they just discovered their father is! So if Jay wants to shut himself off from the world for a few days, just let him. And Clary isn't ignoring our calls for some stupid personal reason, it's probably because she thinks it's about Jace or Valentine."

Isabelle exhaled slowly, and Alec congratulated himself on his amazing mediating skills. "But I think she's the only one who can help him. The only one who can get through."

"Yeah well, maybe that's why Jace needs to get away so badly." Alec gingerly stepped back out of the chaotic kitchen and called his youngest sibling. "Hey Max, come and help us to clean up!"

* * *

Magnus Bane was desperately trying to find a way out of his oath to the blasted Shadowhunter. He had been musing over it for hours and was becoming entirely sick of it. The High Warlock disliked being held to promises and it was seriously beginning to dampen his mood- that and the fact that a certain Shadowhunter had been forced to stay at home with his dratted brother all week. He had a good mind to curse the Lightwoods for flouncing off to Idris- but that probably wouldn't go down well with Alec. In fact he would most likely stay away from Magnus by choice and not just for brotherly babysitting duties.

Well, if sending the Ten Plagues of Brooklyn to Maryse and Robert Lightwood was not an option- the Warlock would just have to find some other way to cheer himself up. And then it clicked: a party! Of course! Getting ready would occupy his mind for some time and entertaining guests was always enjoyable. Two hours later, the High Warlock had truly outdone himself- his eyelids were a dazzling violet masked by silver-crusted lashes, his hair was sprinkled with flakes of glitter and streaks of purple and red. His lips were stained with a bright amethyst shade and he had to admit that he was already feeling a little more upbeat.

He had zapped some flyers to the usual haunts before getting ready. A very large disco ball hung in preparation from the ceiling and a massive sound system had just been "imported" from a high-end club in New York that was closed for the night. Checking his seven faced watch, Magnus realised he had plenty of time still left. Now, what else could take his mind of that pesky oath to the Nephilim? Chairman Meow mewled from his perch upon Magnus's DVD cabinet.

"Excellent idea, Chairman, a Gilmore Girls Omnibus it is!"

Two hours later, the place was full of dancing bodies and loud, pulsating music. However Magnus was still irritated- he couldn't get his promise to the Wayland boy out of his mind no matter how hard he tried. There had to be some way to weasel out of this one. Magnus was a weaselling extraordinaire! He would not be stumped by a trivial promise to a conceited Shadowhunter. A loud revving of a motorcycle outside his door made him frown, before a large grin broke out on his face. It was so blatantly obvious and simple that the warlock marvelled at how he had managed to miss it in the first place. Waltzing up to the make-shift bar, Magnus lay one spangled elbow on the wooden counter.

"So, Raphael, would you consider yourself a 'living soul'?" he asked inquisitively.

"I would consider myself neither," replied the vampire baring his pearly white fangs. "Pray tell, Warlock, why do you ask?"

Magnus Bane gave a very self-satisfied smirk and leaned towards the Child of the Night conspiratorially. "Well, as it happens…"


	6. Chapter 6

**Here is chapter 6! Hope you guys enjoy!! Huge thanks once again to everyone who is reading and reviewing!! Let me know what you think!! =]**

Madeleine Bellefleur was an interesting kind of person- her silvery skeins of hair stretched all the way down her back so that she could almost sit on it if she wished. Her eyes were rimmed were black kohl which magnificently set off her steely grey irises. A thick, jagged scar ran down her right cheek, though Clary never had the courage to ask her how it got there. Madame Bellefleur seemed to be constantly dressed in pitch black- her jackets were more like cloaks and always billowed behind her grazing her ankles. At a first glance, most people would believe that she was quite conservative with her formal attire. (Of course, Mundanes would probably just consider her somewhat eccentric and odd.) Clarissa Fray had soon come to realise that Madeleine was quite the hippy deep down. She often lectured her on the importance of realising who she was as a person, of furthering her skills in art and Shadowhunting and embracing her 'destiny.' Then again, she had been a close friend of Clary's mother- the vibrant artist- so the girl reasoned that this wasn't quite a shock really.

"Loosen up, dear! You will never achieve the greatness you are capable of if you don't," Madeleine reprimanded again. She was obsessively interested in Clary's artistic abilities, especially the skills concerning runes. "We can do this, Clary. I know we can succeed."

The young Shadowhunter rubbed a weary hand across her face leaving behind a smear of paint on her cheek. "Yeah, I know we can save her."

"What?" Madeleine asked sounding confused.

"My mother- we can save her."

The woman turned to face her with a swish of her unruly silver mane. "Ah, yes. Of course. Sorry, dear, you know my mind isn't what it used to be… not after, well, that's a story for another day." Clary caught sight of a truly pained look on her lined features.

"Madeleine, are you okay?" she asked in concern. "You can tell me, you know. Honestly, you can tell me anything."

It had not gone unnoticed for Clary that the older woman seemed reluctant to speak about her past. She often told what Clarissa considered to be 'half stories'- she would reminisce about times she had spent with Jocelyn and suddenly trail off and not finish the story. There was never a reason given, the awkwardness was simply glossed over like the glistening track left behind after a snail crept lackadaisically past.

"Oh, I know, dear," she sighed. "I know."

Absentmindedly, Madeleine picked up a long toothed comb from the dresser and perched on the edge of her seat, pulling it through her long hair. "I never thought I would see Lynnie again-"

"I never heard Mum called anything other then Jocelyn before," Clary smiled.

"Oh, Lynnie and I were inseparable- I mean, I told you some of the things we used to get up to in the old days. Before that awful accident." The woman sniffed.

Clary stilled, sitting down beside the woman and wrapping her arms around a cushion. "What accident?"

Wringing her hands, Madeleine fidgeted with her many rings. Most were silver with Celtic twists and turns, the one on her third finger held a large onyx stone flecked with grey veins and cracks. "Your mother never told you about me, did she?"

"No, she never told me about anyone from Idris or from her past." Clary could feel it now- like the sudden sting in the bitter air that told you when winter had finally arrived or the first birdsong of the day to let you know that night had passed and morning had come. It was now, after all these days flitting around excuses with delicate movements not unlike the fluttering of a butterfly's wings, Clarissa Fray was finally going to get some answers. She was standing at the edge- she was finally going to hear about her mother from someone who knew her before she fled Valentine, someone who knew the true Jocelyn before she became Clary's mother. At last she was getting what she wanted, the young Nephilim could almost touch it and she couldn't be happier.

"Not surprising really. It was probably the guilt, poor poor Lynnie…" A bejewelled hand rubbed her fading yet very noticeable scar. "She always did blame herself, even though I told her not to."

Clary could scarcely breathe. "For what? What did my mother blame you for?"

Madeleine turned to her hastily, worry etched on her face with the usual thin lines around her crinkling eyes. "But you mustn't put the blame on her too! Promise me, I should never be able to forgive myself if I came between my darling Lynnie and her daughter."

"Never," gasped the vibrant redhead, "Never, I swear it! I love my mother, Madeleine. I would do anything for her."

A smile tugged up the left corner of her mouth for a split second before being quickly sustained- by the time the woman began to speak, Clary doubted that it had even happened. "You see, this scar is because of Lynnie. It wasn't her fault of course, but she has always blamed herself."

"Why? Please, Madeleine, you can trust me. You know you can," the girl was near begging in anticipation and curiosity.

The radiators in the old apartment creaked and groaned and yet another peel of ancient cream paint fluttered to the dirty wooden floorboards from the yellow, paint streaked walls. It was the only noise in the silence filled void. Clary waited with bated breath, praying that this would not be another 'half story.'

"Her husband… Valentine. Dearest Lynnie wanted to leave him… that dreadful man, she wanted better for you Clarissa. I was her greatest friend, you see, and I wanted to help her to make her escape."

'Nearly there,' Clary thought, 'just a little further.'

Madeleine paused, inhaling loudly as though battling inner demons that were waging a war in her mind.

'A few more words,' she mentally coaxed. 'Valentine and Jocelyn. What happened with Valentine and my mother? Don't stop now, please don't stop now.'

But then somebody answered Clary's silent prayers, and the demons on her side told Madeleine to spill the beans. "Lynnie and I were set to leave Idris and go into hiding… Valentine found out somehow before we departed. He would do anything, Clarissa, to hold on to you and your mother- love makes you do crazy things, love like his is just frightening. He tried to talk your mother into staying, convince her that they were in love and would have the world sitting in the palm of their hands. Lynnie wouldn't listen, so he resorted to the violence that was second nature to him. Of course, I intervened- I couldn't let you or poor Lynnie be harmed- but that didn't go down too well."

Madeleine Bellefleur's steely grey eyes penetrated the emerald green depths of Clary's with the sharp force of nostalgia. "Valentine did this to me, Clarissa," she murmured gesturing to the ugly scar. "Because I saved you and your mother."

And then, the young Shadowhunter realised that she would do anything for this woman. Not only had she freed Clary from the wrath of her father, but now the woman was back to help her save her mother once more, despite the danger and risk she would face in doing it.

A watery smile broke out on Clarissa Fray's face and her arms wrapped around the eccentric looking lady beside her, as she buried her head of flaming hair in the musky smell of the woman's perfumed shoulder. With a wide grin that showed a considerable amount of teeth, Madeleine Bellefleur hugged her back with firm strength.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7- Is Jace in over his head with this one? The pressure is building and time is ticking, how long will it be before everyone else gets involved? Thank you again to everyone that reads, reviews and adds me to 'Favourites'! You guys are amazing =]**

Jace Wayland was a man on the edge. His usually calm and collected frame twitched every so often unintentionally due to the many gallons of caffeine he had consumed- the Nephilim had managed to get his hands on an anti-sleep potion from a witch in an herbal remedies outlet but that was three days ago and he had not been fortunate enough to get a refill. The Shadowhunter was nearing the end of his tether and had gone so far as to give himself a deadline- one more day. If he was not successful in his mission to find Clary by tomorrow he would have no choice but to enlist the help of others.

While his piercing golden eyes held firmly onto their determination, they had lost their usual gleam. His hair was no longer stylishly mussed-up, it was dishevelled and messy. And despite the scars littered around his body- it was the purple bruises beneath his lifeless, squinting, golden orbs that seemed to weigh him down the most. Worry marred the generally unlined face of handsome angular features. So clear was his sense of mission, that people hastily dodged out of his way rather then cross his path- for surely a man this hardened and overwrought would plough through them instead of taking the time to effectively manoeuvre around trivial obstacles such as bystanders.

Jace truly was a man on the edge.

Now that Jace's self-predetermined time was running out quickly, he was even more motivated and jumpy. He currently had a demon thrust up against an underground sewer wall, held by his bunched hoodie. It was a habit that he repeated numerous times in the last few days- yet it had still had to actually produce any positive results. Growling at the people suspended above him, had also become routine.

"Tell me what you have heard?" he hissed.

"Nothing," croaked the demon through his pierced lips. He resembled a gulping fish out of water- complete with hooks wedged in his mouth and all. "I never heard of her. The name never-"

"Don't lie to me," Jace reinforced his point by hitting the demon against the hard wall once more. "Clarissa Fray- tell me what is being said in your scum-filled circles about her."

He gasped through metal adorned lips and shook his head quickly.

"Do not mess with me," the avenging angel threatened menacingly. "One last chance- Clarissa Fray. Clarissa Morgenstern. Tell me right this instant or I will deliver you to the fiery pits you hailed from."

The young demon continued to writhe against his captor like a floundering fish hanging from a line. "Nothing. I know not the names! I swear it-"

With a canine growl of fury and frustration Jace pulled out a dagger. To the fiery pit's the creature had come, and to the fiery pits he would return. 'Demons,' he thought with disgust, wiping his blade on the inside of his jacket before re-sheathing it and striding purposefully out of the rotten sewers. Time was ticking past and Jace did not want to fail this mission. He couldn't fail, not this time- the stakes were entirely too high.

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Simon was talking to his sister Rebecca on the phone when his doorbell rang through the house with a shrill note of irritancy. Telling Rebecca that he would call her back later, Simon padded gracefully to the doorway and turned the lock. He could only hope that it wasn't the golden eyed Shadowhunter on another random rampage.

There was nobody there, just a simple piece of paper discarded on the floor. In elegant, cursive script were the words:

_If I were you I would pay a visit to Dumort as soon as possible. It really is quite urgent._

_- Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn_

Closing the door behind him, Simon had to question all the excitement going on in the lives of Downworlders these days. Or perhaps he was just new to all this, if so he wondered how he had ever been able to survive on the monotony of Mundie existence. Probably because he had Clary, the wonderful girl that he had loved for most of his life. The girl that was suddenly taking to ignoring all his calls and text messages. He had decided to give her some space, but that didn't mean he was happy about it.

The dusty shadows of Dumort were more prominent when Simon could see them in daylight. It was the only advantage he had over his contemporaries. Creaking up the stairs, the vampire made his way to Raphael's room.

"Simon," came the accented drawl. "I know you are relatively new to this and I know that you may be a 'Daylighter' as we so fittingly named you- but I for one am still nocturnal. And that means that I sleep… right about now."

"I got a message from Magnus B-"

"Ah yes, I knew there was something I needed to discuss with you. It concerns the Morgenstern child."

Simon's interest picked up tenfold and his ears pricked, he could feel his chest tightening. "Which one?"

"Ah, good point. Both actually, but mainly that fiery female you tend to mix with."

"What is going on, Raphael? Is Clary alright?" Fear and worry began to constrict his throat and he pursed his lips tight. Simon knew nothing good could come from Shadowhunting- now that he was a Downworlder he found it much easier to dislike Jace and his Nephilim ways. Not Clary though- she was an exception. And Isabelle… maybe there were a few exceptions.

"That would appear to be the problem," Raphael said smoothly as a strand of ink black hair swished across his face. "No one knows how the girl is, for no one knows where the girl is. It would seem that she is missing."

Simon swore.


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, first off let me apologise for this- it is more of a filler then anything, I wrote it over the weekend while I was sick to occupy my time... I'll put up a proper chapter tomorrow. Big, big thank you to all readers, reviewers and people who add me to favourites! You guys are great!! =] Hey, look!! I found out how to use the ruler!! =P**

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"Alec?" The dark-haired Shadowhunter pricked up his ears at the sound of his sister's voice.

"Yes?" He replied with disinterest as he continued to sharpen the already filed blades in the weapons room. Just seconds beforehand he had heard the distinct tinkling bell-sound that alerted them all to the arrival of a new message on Isabelle's phone. No doubt she wanted to rush off to some club or another as usual… or, considering recent events, perhaps it was some faerie or ifrit who thought they knew where Jace was, in which case his darling sister was undoubtedly more then ready to go off on some recovery mission for the poor Nephilim who clearly did not want to be found.

"It's Simon…"

"Here?!" Alec yelped. "But this is hallowed-"

Isabelle's voice cut him off disdainfully. "Not here, Alec!" She tutted. "He just text me."

Alec rolled his eyes. Did his sister ever stick to one potential love interest per week? And surely she knew better then a Vampire. Not that he was one to judge. Obviously his own choices were somewhat… unconventional…

"I think we should get to Taki's- and soon," the raven-haired girl called.

Walking into the kitchen, wrinkling his nose at the smell of acridly burning toast, Alec found his sister peering at her mobile screen. "Why?" he asked.

"He sounded kind of frantic. Simon said it was urgent and I doubt he would have got in touch if it wasn't."

Alec quirked an eyebrow. "He sounded urgent about what? I must admit I am kind of lost here."

"Clary. Alec, he said Clary is in trouble."

Alec yanked the toaster out of the socket in the wall. "Then we better get to Taki's," he said quickly. Isabelle quirked an eyebrow at the urgency in his voice for the girl she had always thought he disliked. Just as she was opening her mouth to question him, Alec gave her the answer.

"It could be about Jace," he said

"Or it could be about Clary." Isabelle replied sharply, as a frown settled on her smooth face.

"Yeah, that too." he affirmed with mild disinterest. Before Isabelle could intervene, Alec had marched out of the Institute with Max in tow.

* * *

"Missing?!" Isabelle screeched. "For _five _days?!"

Simon had a grim look plastered on his face, his jaw had been clenched tight since his enlightening chat with Raphael. Isabelle's eyes were as wide as saucers and her plump, cherry coloured lips were pursed.

"Actually," Simon winced. "Today makes it six."

"Six?!! Six days?! Simon this is ridiculous! Where is Luke? I highly doubt a man that perceptive could fail to notice that the girl living with him hasn't been home for almost a week!"

The Vampire rubbed a weary hand over his face and sighed. "Apparently she went home straight after she left Jace at Taki's to grab some clothes. She told Luke that she was staying at the Institute."

Alec never looked up from the tabletop where he stared at the salt shaker. "Smart move, really. Graymark hates going to the Institute and it was the only place she could pretend to stay without anybody realising she had left."

"Alec!" Isabelle snapped. "I would hardly call this escapade 'smart'! The girl has been missing for six days!"

Alec's dark eyes snapped up to meet his sister's. "And Jace for four! You seem to keep overlooking that today!"

An unfeminine growl left Izzy's throat as her hand rested on her whip. "Oh please, Alec! Jace is a brother to me- of course I'm worried! But Jace is one of the best Shadowhunters we know and is completely capable of defending himself. Clarissa, on the other hand, is not!"

Simon banged an alabaster pale hand down on the table. "Look, your squabbling isn't getting us anywhere. Jace should have told us-"

"He is out there looking for her!" Alec interrupted indignantly.

"Yeah, and with no results in six days, he really is doing a fantastic job."

"Four," Alec muttered sullenly under his breath. "Four days."

Isabelle stood up and grabbed her bag. With a sharp 'tut' of disdain. Her chair scraped gratingly against the floor, causing two fairies at a neighbouring table to scowl. At the sight of the black Marks etched into her skin, they decided not to reprimand her and simply turned their backs.

"Where are you going?" the two oldest boys asked, tearing their eyes away from their concentrated glare.

"I," Isabelle declared. "Am going to Lucian's house. You two can stay here and argue like petty children, but I for one am going to try to find Jace and Clary. Obviously, enlisting some help is the first step. Come on Max."

Isabelle strode out of the restaurant with Max, chuckling humourlessly as she thought of how Jace would feel about being the cause of a fight between a Vampire and Shadowhunter. More then likely it would inflate his oversized ego even more. A source of amused pride for the egotistical teenager.

Alec and Simon gave each other one last look of contempt before gracefully scrabbling out of Taki's in Izzy's wake.


	9. Chapter 9

**Some more masochistic Jace! You gotta love him! Huge thank you again to everyone reading and reviewing!! =] Hope you enjoy, let me know!**

"Scotch," the blonde boy rasped. He had not greeted the barman, he had not taken off his jacket, he had merely collapsed into the solitary stool and barked out that one single word. Anyone could tell he needed the drink.

"Shadowhunter," the ifrit greeted, polishing a pint glass with a chequered teacloth.

"Scotch," Jake repeated edgily. His eyes never lifting from where they stared at the grainy bar top- it was ringed with the stains of long removed glasses and flecked with scratches.

An overflowing tumbler of golden brown liquid was pushed under the Nephilim's nose. He tossed it back in one gulp, scarcely shuddering at the strong taste as it hit the back of his throat. Jace shoved the glass back to the ifrit.

"Refill," he said bleakly. The barman raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Scotch. Refill. Now." Jace growled testily. The second glass was gone as soon as the first. It was rapidly pushed back across the bar. This time the Shadowhunter didn't even bother to ask, the anticipated action was implied.

Jonas shook his head as he topped up the drink. Two faeries at the other end of the bar tittered together quietly. The ifrit wandered over with their beverages and leant on the counter to stop and chat.

"You think we're gonna have trouble tonight, Jonas?" One of the blue-haired members of the Seelie Court quizzed, cocking her head towards the thoroughly miserable looking Shadowhunter knocking back glass after glass of scotch.

Jonas slung his cloth over shoulder as he chuckled grimly. "I would say that it's inevitable, ladies." They giggled again as they sipped through coloured straws. Jonas himself, was a pretty burly fellow. Beneath his off-white, crumpled shirt his biceps were quite noticeable, but against a highly trained Warrior… Jonas doubted his chances, even if the Shadowhunter was more then just slightly tipsy.

"Again," Jace could be heard to say.

With a weary sigh, the barman went for the scotch again. "There a reason why you're drinking this much?" he asked gruffly.

"Because," Jace said, trying to disguise the slurring of his voice. "I have some very bad business to do tonight. So I figure I should at least let myself soften the blow."

"I see," Jonas replied before walking away with a discreet rolling of his eyes. It was going to be a very long night.

"Hey! You!" Jace called boisterously. "I'm waiting to be served over here!" At this stage he was on his fifth round.

"Look, don't you think you've had enough, son?" Jonas intervened calmly.

The golden haired boy started forward until his alcohol soaked breath surrounded the barman's face. "Don't," Jace snarled. "Call me 'son'. Do you have any idea who my father is? He is a monster. He would kill you without a second glance, Ifrit." Jace's lips curled over his pearly teeth. "He would enjoy it, too."

Jonas leant down until he was eyelevel with Jace. "This here is my bar, Shadowhunter. So if you want to stay, I would advise you to keep that sharp tongue in check."

Jace smirked smugly as though he took pride in getting under others' skin. It was a twisted smile of someone who was looking to be punished. "Then I had better be a good little boy if I want my scotch. Would you like a 'please', Ifrit? A pat on the head and a nice tip?"

Jonas handed over another glass full of the amber liquid. "Just think about slowing down, eh?"

Jace grabbed the glass and stumbled to his feet, raising it above his head. "Live fast and die young!" he proclaimed loudly. "And kill as many evil leeches as possible in between!" The Shadowhunter crashed into his stool once more, downing the drink that was sloshing over his hand as he moved.

After number seven, Jace was even worse for wear.

"So a werewolf, a vampire and a pixie walk into a bar," he announced, chugging back another mouthful. "A bar nearly as pathetic as this dismal sh-"

"Alright, Shadowhunter," Jonas interrupted as his customers growled in disapproval.

"That's quite enough. Sit down quietly or I'll have to ask you to leave." Behind the bar, a huge werewolf picked up a mobile phone. He began speaking amidst the clamouring bar noise while Jace badmouthed the rest of the customers.

"Well isn't that gratitude for you!" Jace yelled. "My people spent their time protecting your lowly kind, putting ourselves on the line for your precious Accords, and all we get in return is-"

"Okay, okay. How about you go and take care of that business of yours, Shadowhunter, and come back some time when you're sober." Jonas butted in again as his riled clients got to their feet with their fists clenched. This wasn't the kind of bar where Downworlders slurs were taken without consequences. It was becoming an extremely difficult night and the inevitable trouble was nigh.

"Drunken minds speak sober hearts," a warlock roared from the back.

Jonas sent him a warning glare. It was a glare that clearly said- we all know who is in the wrong. Don't aggravate the drunkard with the weapons.

"How about you head home, now, eh?" the barman placated firmly. The double doors of the entrance opened, the metal scraping on the ground was barely noticed by the furious crowd who were wrapped up in the tense atmosphere.

"Home?! What a wonderful word! It sounds like a delightful place- could you give me an address, maybe?" Jace slurred loudly. "I don't have a home. I don't need a home. All I need is her! And she is gone! All gone, all lost and I can't find her! And you," he snarled turning to face them all. "Not one of you pitiful, useless idiots could help me! I need her! I need to find her- and not one of you could help me." His voice was accusatory and desperate, laced with alcohol.

Just before the crowd began a lynch mob, Lucian Graymark stepped forward with Isabelle and Alec Lightwood close behind. Simon was lingering by the heavy steel doors.

"No!" Jace cried brokenly as they advanced on him. "No! You aren't supposed to be here. I had a deadline, you were supposed to wait until I told you tonight! You can't be here."

Luke and Alec grabbed him, hooking him either side by the elbows and dragging him outside. Luke turned briefly to the werewolf behind the bar. "Thank you, Darrell."

The Alpha had walked out before he could see the nod given in response.

"I'm so sorry about all this," Isabelle apologised to the crowd, before swiftly exiting the bar. Simon held open one of the doors and they both swept outside into the bitterly cold air.


	10. Chapter 10

**A bit of Drunk Jace humour here. Not as serious as other chapters, but the next chapter is a lot more serious- I promise! Let me know what you think of this though, I'm not sure what I think fo it to be honest. Thanks once again to everyone reading and reviewing!!! =]**

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Luke helped to force Jace into his battered pickup truck as the Shadowhunter struggled against him. Simon decided to sidle into the front seat- something told him that being any closer to Jace than was necessary would be a drastically bad move at this moment in time. Alec and Isabelle stood on the sidewalk looking extremely worried with anxious frowns adorning their faces. Alec walked over to the truck to slide in beside his parabatai, Isabelle however did not move and stood stock-still, gnawing on her lower lip.

"Isabelle, he's just drunk. He'll be fine," he soothed.

"No, Lucian, he is not fine. You- you don't understand," the raven-haired girl said. "He… he said he needed her. Jace said he needed her."

She said it with such revered shock that Luke had to cock a quizzical eyebrow in her direction.

"Jonathan Wayland has never needed anyone. Much less admitted it. That kind of dependence is not part of him. Jace doesn't need anyone. He takes pride in it, he thinks it makes him strong. You don't know what an admission like this means, Luke, you really don't." A deep frown lined her forehead and crinkled the soft skin around her dark eyes.

Luke laid a gentle hand on her arm. "Okay… Look Isabelle, the main thing right now is getting Jace home and trying to find Clary. Once we know that both of them are safe, then we can worry about the other stuff- alright?"

Nodding mutely, Isabelle climbed into the backseat as Luke started the rumbling engine.

"What the hell was Jace in doing in that dive?" Alec mumbled. "It's pretty much the roughest bar in town. What was he thinking?"

Simon peered into his overhead mirror, looking disdainfully at the trio in the back. Jace was in the middle, slumped over both of the Lightwoods in his semi-conscious state. "Clearly," the vampire drawled. "He wasn't."

He had expected to rile Alec with that comment but it was Isabelle who snapped viciously, "Shut up, Simon. I swear- you are just asking to feel the end of my dagger in your chest."

Uncomfortable silence filled the truck as Luke sped towards his place. Simon scowled in the front as Isabelle stroked Jace's hair and Alec looked on with worry set in his features. To Simon, it seemed ridiculously wrong that everyone was fawning over the golden-haired drunkard in the back. Clary was clearly the priority here, and the only one that needed to be worried about. Besides that, it was Jace's fault that Clary was still missing. Simon was convinced that had everyone else known about her disappearance, Clary would have been found long before now. But he really didn't want to feel the dangerously sharpened edge of Isabelle's dagger, so he kept his mouth shut and continued to scowl.

"Darrell is one of my pack," Luke said, breaking the silence and answering Alec's earlier question. "He was in Solomon's since Jace arrived. This morning, I told the pack to be on the lookout for Jace and when Darrell saw him in the bar, he listened in- thinking that any Shadowhunter in Solomon's might be the guy I was looking for. Good thing he did too, Jace was just about to get himself killed when we walked in. Apparently, Jace came in a few hours ago and started asking some questions of… well, the shady characters. Then he sat at the bar and proceeded to get blind drunk. When Jonas- the barman- asked him why he was drinking, Jace said something about having bad business to do and wanting to soften the blow. I figure he was getting ready to tell us about Clary. Solomon's is the worst bar in town, I guess it was his last resort and once that didn't give him any answers, he just decided to drown his sorrows."

The silence returned as the rest of the group soaked up the news.

Alec picked up his mobile and clicked at the keypad before raising it to his eye. "Hey, Max… Is Magnus still there with you?… Okay, put him on for a second… Hey Magnus… No, we found him. In Solomon's… Don't ask… Yeah, well he is really drunk. Do you have something to sober him up once we get back?… Thanks, we won't be long."

With a blush, Alec shoved the phone back into his pocket. Ten minutes later, Luke and Alec were hauling Jace out of the pickup and up the stairs.

"Well, about time!" Magnus exclaimed from inside.

"You okay, Max?" Isabelle asked.

"Oh, please, darling. He is fine! Honestly though, this babysitting gig is making me feel like such a teenage girl. Good thing you finally decided to come back!" Isabelle rolled her eyes skyward. "And you, Graymark. You seriously need to redecorate- this place is so old-fashioned that it was never in fashion! But anyway, where is the patient?"

"Geh hoff me!" Jace slurred, pushing Alec and Luke's helpful hands away. He stumbled face-first onto the couch. "Don't need any help."

"No," Magnus said wryly. "Certainly not."

"You!" Jace shouted, pointing a wavering finger 45 degrees east of where Magnus stood. "You promised not to tell anyone! You swore- on the Angel word. Name. On Angel name!"

"No, my dear boy, I swore not to tell a living soul. And that, I did not do."

"Nonsense. Warlocks make no sense. And stand still would you!" Jace proclaimed as he wobbled about on the chair. "Now. 'Scuse me. Got to go save Clary. She needs saving you know," he informed the room seriously. The Shadowhunter got to his feet before promptly tilting forwards.

Alec and Luke steadied him and dropped him back onto the couch. "How about we sit for a minute, Jace."

"No, no, no. Saving to be done. Hand me my scotch!" He shouted. "No- not scotch. 'Nuff scotch. Can get scotch laterly. Sword- hand me my sword."

Magnus sighed dramatically. "He really is quite entertaining when he is drunk, isn't he? I must remember to invite him to my next party."

"Great idea, but could we please work on getting him sober for now, please. There are pressing issues at hand which call for Jace to be less inebriated." Luke intervened, obviously worried about the missing girl he saw as his daughter.

The High Warlock of Brooklyn gestured a hand in Jace's direction. A considerable amount of water magically fell on his head, plastering his hair to his head. Jace gasped and whirled around in shock looking for somebody to blame.

He narrowed his eyes at the multicoloured warlock. "I think I'll kill you," he threatened darkly.

"Like you could," Magnus scoffed. "Here, drink this." A glass of frothy green gloop was presented.

"Hell no! It looks like something Izzy made!" He exclaimed in a horrified voice. "You drink it- I wanted to kill you."

The shock of the freezing cold water seemed to improved Jace's sentence structure, he had become more coherent and literate at any rate. Max giggled in the corner and the sides of every mouth in the room twitched upwards. Except Isabelle who just looked downright murderous. She strode over and pinched Jace's nose between her fingers and grabbed his jaw in her other hand.

"Pour it down his throat," she growled, above Jace's gaping mouth as he made incomprehensible sounds. "Before I shove the glass down along with it." Magnus hurriedly passed the glass on to Luke as Jace gurgled and struggled in Isabelle's firm grip. He sounded like he was being strangled as the green liquid slid forcibly into his mouth. Isabelle pushed his jaws together and smacked a hand over Jace's lips and nose until he swallowed.

Jace gagged. He stuck out his tongue and tried to look at it, turning himself cross-eyed in the process. "That wasn't very nice Izzy-Belle. Izzy Belly. Izza- Bizza- Bell is sooo mean. Her drinks taste like Church and Hugo thrown in a blender, you know." He told Luke conspiratorially. If looks could kill, Isabelle would have rendered Jace dead as soon as the words left his mouth.

"It will take at least ten minutes to work," the Warlock chimed in, regarding the five people in the room staring intently at Jace.

"Oh." They all sat down and snuck surreptitious glances at the soaking wet Nephilim.

"Pity really, he truly was great entertainment," Magnus sighed, tugging on one of his white-tipped spikes of dark hair. "Oh well, there's always next weekend. I'll have to order scotch."

Isabelle turned the full force of her glare on the Warlock as Luke shook his head in disappointment.

All they could do now was wait. Suddenly, ten minutes seemed very long.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 is here!! I'm glad to hear you liked Drunk Jace! Poor Shadowhunter! So I suppose you all really want to know what happens after those 10 fateful minutes, eh? Well.... wpuld you hate me if you didn't find out just yet??? Please say no, please say no, please say no!! Thank you again to all readers and reviewers- hope you like this little return to seriousness after all of Jace's antics! =]**

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"Clary, dear, would you like some tea?"

"No thank you, Madeleine." The redhead called back. Madeleine's tea wasn't like normal tea- it was like pond water with lots of weeds thrown into a deep mug. The herbal stench that clouded up the kitchen was enough in itself to put Clary off.

"If you're sure. How is the painting coming along, dear?" she called to the backdrop of a metal spoon clanging against a china cup.

"Alright, I suppose." Clary had been mindlessly doodling a shaded depiction of Jace flying over high-rise rooftops on a magnificent black motorcycle. The detail was so astounding that it almost looked real.

Madeleine wandered in, sipping from her cracked mug, and placed a plate of biscuits at Clary's elbow. The young Shadowhunter beamed up at her from where she was sprawled out on the floor surrounded by pencils. Never had Clary felt such respect for someone- Madeleine had been working herself to the bone the past couple of days. The first day or two had been spent questioning and answering each other incessantly. Clary had told Madeleine everything that had happened since that fateful night in Pandemonium, and in return Madeleine told her about her mother during her younger years. Jocelyn was clearly important to Madeleine, and Clary had answered question upon question about her.

Although once the questioning period was over, it had been straight down to work. Madeleine Bellefleur was unbelievably hardworking and dedicated. Her speciality was herbs and medicines. She would spend hours in the kitchen mixing various foul-smelling plants and liquids, often staying up well into the night before Clary begged her to sleep.

The problem, Madeleine had explained, was that plants needed to grow and potions needed to marinate and mature. Patience was key. This of course, would not be a problem if it were simply a question of looking up a recipe and finding the ingredients. It was a problem, however, when there was no cure and one had to be made. The poor woman got so frustrated with her own attempts that she often was reduced to tears. Her love for Jocelyn and her dedication to saving her made Clary's respect for her grow even more. So when Madeleine continued to ask her to draw for her, it was the least Clary could do to comply.

It was little to ask when Clary would do anything for her.

A light shadow flitted across Clary's sketch. "Hmm," Madeleine hummed, as though the picture of Jace gave her some deep and profound insight into something the artist herself had missed.

"What is it?" Clary asked, gazing upwards.

"Compare it to your other portraits," the silver haired woman advised.

Out of a closed folder, Clary pulled out a sheaf of other pictures. The portrait of her mother was a vibrant mesh of copper and emerald, a depiction of Isabelle wearing a stark red dress and clutching a glinting sword seemed to leap off the page. Magnus Bane was a colourful rainbow constrained by no man or magic, glimmering and shimmering on the paper itself. Luke was happy and carefree in a light blue plaid shirt that looked like an imitation of the sky at noon; Simon, in his usual navy band shirt, stood in the middle of a magnificently golden burst of sunshine as if to highlight his triumph over a life sentence of eternal night.

"It isn't any better, or any worse… I think," Clary mused unsure of her own answer. Each portrait was clear and defined like any piece of her work, the small details were all packed in and the key features were emphasised in all the right places. They were portraits- they were people. Each one showing something different about its subject, revealing the unique aspects of every character.

"You are not looking closely enough," Madeleine informed her. "Or perhaps it is that you are looking too closely, dear. It is quite obvious."

Clary's freckled face scrunched up into a frown as she analysed each work with scrutiny. "Tell me, Clary- what is a portrait. Is it merely a painting? No, my dear, it is not. It is so much more. It is a description of a single person. A portrait captures the very essence of a person, it shows the world what manner of person that is in fine-tuned depth. A portrait can show you the depths of a person's soul, the burdens contained in a miniscule wrinkle, the optimism in a gleaming eye, the happiness in a smile. A portrait is never merely a painting."

"I still don't-"

Madeleine crouched down on the floor beside Clary. "Colour. Look at the difference in colour, dear."

With one gentle move, the woman bent over the display of artwork and separated the most recent from all the others.

Jace now stood alone atop the powerful motorcycle on his very own section of the floor- completely apart from all others. The demonic bike was so imposing and black that a bare glance at it could make a mighty roar of a revving engine spring to life in your mind. The handsome Shadowhunter with the sharp cheekbones was facing outwards- dark eyes and sculpted face turned to look at something far behind him. The shading of his eyes told all looking that he was closed off and independently strong. The shadows on his hair made it appear to be tossed about by the unseen wind. Slight scars marked his smooth skin and the figure seemed to have no qualms with being separated from all the other portraits.

Somehow, Clary had failed to miss it. It should have been clear- a child would have noticed it immediately as the sketch sat in-between the other paintings.

While every other picture burst into life with vibrant and sparkling colours, Jace Wayland was depicted completely in black and white.

"Portraits tell us something about their subject matters, Clary. What does this one tell you?" Madeleine asked, tapping the gleaming, sturdy motorcycle.

Clary stared at the detailed face of the warrior she had drawn. "That I wanted a change from paint and opted for pencils."

The older woman looked almost regretful as she shook her head. "No, dear. It shows us that he sees things differently to us. Jace views the world in black and white. Right and wrong. His morals are clear cut, his mission is his life and he will see his world through only the black and white or right and wrong."

Madeleine pushed the sketch a little further to the side causing Clary's fingers to brush the cold ground as Jace suddenly was out of her reach. She couldn't help but feel a horrible sense of emptiness. And yet, Jace's sketched expression remained the same- turned just a fraction to see her eyes- defiant, independent and happy to be alone.

"Clary, I need to ask for your help. I need a favour, I just simply can't do this alone anymore."

"Of course," Clary answered, swallowing the hard lump in her throat before it choked her.

Madeleine bit on her upper lip, looking troubled. "It is quite a large favour, dear. A thing I hate to ask of you, but something I fear I must."

"Anything." Clary said without hesitation, hoisting herself off the floor and turning her back on the painful portraits. "Anything at all. Anything for you, Madeleine."

A flowing black sleeve wrapped comfortingly around Clary's shoulder, drawing her close to the musky smell of perfume and herbs. Clary focused on the skeins of silver hair spilling over onto her shoulder.

"It's about your mother."


	12. Chapter 12

**Here is chapter 12!! Massive thanks to everyone reading and reviewing once more!! I know what you mean guys- I would love to see the artwork too... Unfortunately the extent of my artistic talent is the ability to draw wobbly stick people!! Hee hee! Anyway- on with the chapter!! =]**

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Jace clutched his head in his hands- his fingers making claws around his temples. From his closed mouth came a muffled groan.

"By the Angel, Warlock. What was in that foul concoction?" Jace's mouth felt rough, overpowered with the taste of thick, green, swamp slime mixed with the vulgar taste of stale scotch.

Magnus flashed him a wide, sparkling smile. "Trust me, Jace- you don't want to know."

The Shadowhunter shook his head as if trying to rid himself of either the taste in his mouth or the memories plaguing his mind. "Damn scotch," he mumbled. "Any water 'round here?"

Alec rose from his seat fluidly and walked towards the fridge. Isabelle, on the other hand, sat still and glared furiously.

"Jonathon Christopher Wayland!" she fumed. "I swear by the Angel that when I am finished with you-"

"Izzy, drop it," Alec murmured as he handed Jace a glass of water.

Isabelle whirled around to face her brother. "Oh no, Alec! Don't you even think of giving me that! He doesn't have any idea what he has put us through these last few days, I have been worried sick!"

She turned to Jace to give him the full effect of her anger. "You just disappeared, Jace! You wouldn't answer your phone, you wouldn't come home- I was worried out of my mind! And then you have the cheek to go off and get ridiculously drunk! You have no idea-"

Jace had been sitting in silence, staring back at Isabelle as she unleashed her wrath. Suddenly he flung the glass of water to the ground. It shattered into a million little pieces and a patch of wetness spread on the floor. As it crashed, he didn't even flinch and his eyes were livid. It effectively cut Isabelle off mid-rant.

"Don't you dare turn that crock on me, Isabelle Lightwood," his words were searing like swords of burning flame. "_You _are the one that has no idea. Clary is missing. She. Is. Gone. And I failed, Izzy- don't you get that?! I was supposed to find her, it was my job to find her and I didn't! I screwed up, Isabelle! Six cursed days and I still couldn't find her! I screwed this up big-time! So if I want to go off and get drunk, then just let me. Don't turn all that self-righteous anger on me, Isabelle, okay. Not right now, because I won't grovel or apologise or beg for forgiveness. Just save it."

Jace stalked out of the room. When he came back, his damp and curling hair had been obviously been roughly towelled and smoothed back. His face was slightly pink tinged, explaining the sound of gushing water from the bathroom. Dark shadows still blemished his eyes and his jaw was still set rigidly, his mussed hair only added to his dishevelled appearance.

"What do you know?" he asked Luke in a coarse voice, immediately destroying the awkward and tension-filled silence in the room. It was disrupted instantaneously, like the shattering of the broken glass minutes before.

"No more then you- as of now. My pack are doing the best they can, and I have every faith in them." Jace stood there in quiet contemplation for a second. Magnus, Alec and Isabelle sat on the couch. Isabelle looked troubled and refused to even glance up, instead chewing on her lower lip and emanating guilt. Simon's face was unreadable from where he sat in the corner. Max sat at the table, unable to focus on the Anime magazine in front of him.

"Going for a walk," Jace said gruffly. "Get in touch if you learn anything new. Don't bother if you don't."

As the door slammed behind him, the entire room let out a breath that its members didn't even know they were holding. The tension could have been sliced through with a feather.

Max glanced up with bright eyes. "Is Clary okay? I hope so- she's cool. She taught me to read Anime. I like her, but I don't know why she is making Jace sad."

Simon stood angrily. "Yes, poor _Jace_ is sad. After a few months of knowing her, of course he would be more torn up about her going missing then her closest friends and family would be," he spat.

Magnus brushed invisible specks of dust off his bright jumper. "I think I shall take my leave now. Not that the drama isn't highly entertaining- but I do have a cat to feed, I'm afraid. However, I would advise you all to stop fighting among yourselves if you ever want to find the girl. I'm sure you can all argue about who likes her most once she actually gets home. I'll listen out for some news and let you know if I hear anything, darlings. Ciao!"

A round of "thank you's" coursed around the apartment as the High Warlock waved them off with one flick of his bejewelled hand.

Unease and a sense of discomfort weighed down the atmosphere once more. "Maybe you should apologise, Isabelle," Luke suggested. "I know you haven't done anything, but…"

The raven-haired Shadowhunter shook her head glumly. "Trust me- that won't work. At this stage, saying sorry to Jace wouldn't count for much when he is in this mood. I should have known better then to try to talk to him right now." She exhaled loudly. "He'll be back soon. Once we get news on Clary everything will be okay."

Everyone else could only hope. Magnus had been right- if they couldn't get on between themselves, they hadn't a chance of coming together to find Clarissa Fray. And they all knew that they needed to come together pretty damn fast. Time was running out.


	13. Chapter 13

**Here goes Chapter 13! Back to Clary again. But is Madeleine all she seems? And is Clary slightly biased in the way she sees her mother's oldest friend? All shall be revealed.... Maybe not in this chapter, but it will be revealed!!! =P Thank you once more to everyone reading and reviewing! You people are amazing! =] This chapter is a bit short but I went to bed at 1am, got up around 7am for school, went to school, had to plan and supervise a 3hour birthday for a group of twenty kids aged 7/8 straight after school and then straight after the party had 2hours of a drama class to teach! This was the best I could put together after all that!! If it wasn't for multiple cans of Diet Coke and an overdose on sweets, you probably would have a chapter that just simply read "Jace is cool. Clary is missing." Woo Hoo for Diet Coke and Sweeties!! Anyway, on with the short enough chapter!**

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Clary had woken up whilst it was dark. The burnished rays of sunshine were just beginning to peak above the rooftops. Shadows of darkness still stained the sidewalks as Madeleine lay asleep in bed. Rubbing sleep from the corners of her eyes, Clary wearily pulled on a pair of jeans and yanked a warm jumper over her head. As she slipped on her socks and shoes, her feet felt as cold as the eerie scene beyond the window appeared to be. Grabbing her purse, Clary slid quietly out the door leaving the older woman inside wrapped up in her dreams.

Since Madeleine had asked for her help, Clary had been sketching and drawing non-stop. Botany clearly had not been helping Jocelyn, and so Madeleine had finally given up on trying to find a successful potion. Her interest in Clarissa's art had led her to the idea of using it to save the redhead's mother. The answer, Madeleine reasoned, lay in Clary's 'talent' for creating new runes. They had begun yesterday evening as soon as the question had been asked. It was a simple introduction where Clary had demonstrated her power for bringing objects she sketched to life. Madeleine had been enthralled and delighted until Clary had run out of supplies. It had been too late once this had happened to purchase more- it was approaching midnight and spitting rain through the blackness. The silver haired woman had crawled into bed with the promise of tomorrow. Clary had been told brightly that she could sleep in late and that by the time she awoke Madeleine would have already bought the supplies. But as soon as Clary's eyes opened, she felt the insatiable desire to leave the apartment for just a small amount of time. She would buy the pencils and chalks herself. Surely Madeleine would be delighted that her job had been done for her.

It made Clary smile to notice the different types of Downworlders she could now identify. A simple walk down the street led her past fairies, werewolves and warlocks. The people who were a part of this new world she lived in. It was nearly as much hers as theirs now. Madeleine had faith in her, and with that confidence she could almost believe herself that she could potentially save her mother.

It was only now, as she walked about in the crisp morning air, that Clary realised how long she had been cooped up inside. It had been a week! Yet, she barely noticed. She barely cared. Nonetheless, it was a few hours before she wandered back into Madame Bellefleur's apartment with a bulging plastic bag swinging out of her hand.

"By the Angel, Clary! Where in heavens were you?!"

For the fist time since she had met Madeleine, Clary viewed a previously unrecognised emotion on her face. Anger. Fury. Rage and wrath. Clarissa's eyes widened in shock as she struggled to understand what wrong she had carried out.

"Why on earth did you leave the apartment?! What possessed you?" Her voice held a note of paranoia and uncontrollable emotion.

"I- em, nothing! I didn't realise that I was expected to stay." Clary replied flustered.

Her voice became irritated and curt as she rephrased her answer. "I didn't know I wasn't allowed to leave."

With a slight flash of awareness and horror, Madeleine suddenly regained her ever-present composure. "Oh, oh my dear! I am so sorry." She wrung her hands together in a portrayal of anguish. "Oh Clarissa, forgive! Of course you can go out, I was just so worried that you had left or that something dreadful had happened to you! And Lynnie would never forgive me if any harm had befallen you- I would never forgive myself! Oh my dear Clary, it's just that I am so tired after working so late each night, and I-"

Clary held up a hand, cutting the older woman off mid-way through her rambling explanation. "It's alright, Madeleine. I understand, really I do. Please don't apologise! I should have realised- it was stupid of me not to leave a note or to wake you up. I just thought that I would be doing you a favour, and I really did think that I would be back before you woke up. I'm sorry, Madeleine."

As suddenly as the awkward tension and raging emotions had come, they had disappeared. The redhead cursed herself for having such a temper and short fuse. Had she no consideration? Of course the woman would have been worried! Wouldn't Clary have been worried if she had woken up to an empty apartment?

As Clary exhaled quietly through her nose, Madeleine gave a loud sigh followed by a smile. "Well, let's just say that we were both at fault. What did you get while you were out, dear?"

Clarissa beamed. "Art supplies!"

"Then how about we get to work on saving your darling mother?" Madeleine suggested happily, as she busied herself some more essence of pond weed. Yet, the dazzling smile she directed at the young Shadowhunter had never reached her steely eyes


	14. Chapter 14

**And so we come to Chapter 14- has Jace stopped picking fights yet? Are there any answers to be found about Clary?**

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"Door," Simon called noncommittally from the armchair in the corner.

The pounding on Luke's door continued incessantly.

Jace quirked an eyebrow over his glare. "And your point being, Dracula?"

Rolling his eyes at the Shadowhunter lounging on the couch, Simon extracted himself from his seat and yanked open the door. A towering werewolf standing in the jamb snarled lowly at the pale Vampire in front of him.

Jace sat up, immediately interested. "Finally!" He exclaimed. "Some entertainment. First one to draw blood gets a cookie. First one to render the opponent unconscious gets to help me throw him forcibly from this prison cell."

"Luke," Simon called, outstretching his hands calmly as if to proclaim peace.

"You just had to ruin my fun, didn't you Bloodsucker?" Jace flopped back on the couch again, crossing his arms and staring venomously at the ceiling. "No wonder they call you the living dead- you have turned the atmosphere in this place into that of a funeral home. In fact, I think I would have more fun in a funeral home. Angel knows the company would be better."

"Funnily enough, I doubt it. As I recall, they don't sell scotch at funeral parlours," Simon bit back. Since the Lightwoods had gone home an hour ago to change their clothes and tend to Church, their bickering had worsened considerably.

Jace drew two daggers from his pocket. "I could stick these in your chest before you take your next breath. So if I were you, Lestat, I would shut the hell up and leave the temperamental Nephilim alone before he sets the wolf on you."

It was a mutual verbal war. There was no real hatred involved. It was pure animosity. Jace could not stand Simon for being so close to Clary, and Simon could not bear Jace for the exact same reasons. Their usual banters were snide, sarcastic comments, but now- with the added weight of frustration, fear and anxiety of Clary's disappearance- their words held unmasked hostility. It was not incredibly hard to imagine them lunging at each other in one large show of unrestrained fury. Luke was already worried about his furniture, not to mention what his neighbours would think if two teenage boys were to go crashing his windows in order to continue a brawl in the street.

"Oliver," Luke greeted, grasping the man's hand. "How are you? Come in, please."

"I have news," the werewolf growled. His voice was very low and his words seemed to rumble deep in his chest like the sound of a cement mixer in full swing.

"News? Oh, don't tell me," Jace called with sarcastic enthusiasm from where he was sprawled on the couch. "Pedigree have started making Cat-Flavoured Kibble? Oh, the unbridled joy!"

Luke turned to shoot him a warning look, but it was completely pointless. Jace had still not switched his attention from the ceiling. One would swear he was staring at some kind of enthralling film being projected on it. "Jace," he hissed instead.

"Yes, oh dearest Alpha?" he said with a sickly sweet smile. "Is there something you want? Does your friend require a nice scratch between the ears? Would he like me to throw him a stick?" Jace lazily grabbed his shoe from the ground and waved it around in the air. "Come on, boy. Come on! Who's a good dog, then?" he crooned.

Oliver gave a resonating and highly threatening snarl. "Ignore him," Lucian muttered, grabbing a can from the fridge and handing it over to his guest. "You said you had news, Ollie?"

The cement mixer began turning again and the gravely voice grated against Oliver's throat. "Girl you told us to look out for. Redhead. Saw her yesterday."

"By the Angel, would it kill you to speak in full sentences?" Jace snapped, still not looking up. But his interest had picked up and his breathing had changed its rhythm. He no longer slouched on the couch, but lay in a rigid manner with every possible muscle clenched tightly.

"Where was she, Oliver?" Luke cut in quickly with a note of uncontrolled frantic urgency.

Oliver spoke up again in his rough, cockney accent. His bulging muscles suggested that he had worked on the docks or building sites in the past. His eyes were very small, as if he were constantly squinting through his dirty brown irises. Dark brown, shaggy hair framed his face and stubble darkened his tan skin. The massive hand that clutched his feeble can of drink had knuckles the size of stones and short, dirty fingernails.

"She were downtown. T'were early morning. Not right bright yet and she were alone. Small little thing, bright red hair an' green eyes."

"Whereabouts downtown, Ollie? This is vital. You have done a great job and I swear I will find a way to repay you some day, but please, where was Clary?" Luke asked. Jace had sat up bolt right on the chair- half leaning forward like a sprinter at the starting line anticipating the commencing shot from a smoking pistol.

"Well, eh, she left an apartment and I couldn't find her nowhere after that- she were too small and quick. So I waited there across the street and a few hours later she went on back in. It was down on Coldors Street, down beside…"

As Oliver explained the directions to Clary's hideout, Jace very quietly reached down and began to pull on his shoes, one ear pricked at all times to hear the location he needed. As soon as Oliver had stopped giving the directions, Jace shot out the door. It slammed spectacularly behind him. Luke flung back his chair and yelled Jace's name. The chair crashed to the ground and Simon leapt to his feet along with Luke.

Outside there came a great growling noise even louder then that of the bewildered werewolf in Graymark's apartment. The loud revving of a powerful motorbike engine. The sound of it alone summoned images of sleek, fluid beauty and power to mind.

Once.

Twice.

Three times the ferocious engine roared to the heavens above.

By the time Luke, Simon and Oliver had reached the street outside, the Shadowhunter had gone. A ringing sound of departed decibels vibrated in the disrupted air in the now empty street. Jace had been so quick, that they couldn't even tell which way he had gone. The smell of smoke from the exhaust pipe lingered in the air. Apart from the two werewolves and the barefoot vampire that stood on the sidewalk, the street was deserted- not a person in sight.

Luke and Simon swore softly as Oliver scratched his greasy hair in oblivious puzzlement. To him this meant nothing, but to the Alpha and the Daylighter- the information he had given them was everything.


	15. Chapter 15

**Here is chapter 15!! Thank you again to everyone reading and reviewing and adding to favourites/alerts! I'm glad you like it so far =]**

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Luke was pale. Almost as pale as the Vampire standing at his side. But while the vampire was simply his usual colour, Luke was unnaturally pale. It was as though all the blood had drained from his cheeks.

"Call Isabelle," he said hoarsely.

"What?" Simon replied, barely paying attention.

"Use your phone. Call Isabelle or Alec. Get in my truck." The time for patience had passed. Luke stumbled quickly up the stairs once more, grabbed his mobile and his keys and jumped into his waiting truck. Simon was already in the passenger seat and Luke slammed the door so hard that the truck vibrated shakily.

"Thank you Oliver," he called through the window as he sped away. The werewolf simply stared, still scratching his head as if somehow that would make him understand more of what was going on.

"Isabelle," Simon said briskly, not bothering with the formalities of greetings. "We think we found Clary… We are coming to the Institute right now to pick you up… No, you have to be quick- Jace is gone off on his own to find her… We'll explain in the car, just get ready."

Luke was clenching the steering wheel so hard that Simon thought it might crumble to dust. His eyes were completely focused on the road ahead and his jaw was painfully rigid.

"You okay, Luke?" Simon asked gently. "It's alright, we know where she is now. We just need to get there in time, that's all."

"No, Simon. It is not alright. This is far from alright," The Alpha bit back through gritted teeth. "Jace is going to ruin this is in so many ways."

The vampire's brow furrowed in a perplexed manner. "How? Granted, it's not a good idea to send him alone, but Jace is nothing if not strong. He's a Shadowhunter. Wouldn't it kind of be better for him to be there then it would be for anyone else? Whoever has Clary will be hard pushed to beat an angry Jace."

As Luke turned to face him, Simon's eyes locked with his. In them was such powerful emotion that Simon wanted to pull away. At that moment, Simon realised how hard this must be for the Werewolf beside him. Clary going missing had made Simon feel torn apart with anxiety and worry- it was a natural reaction: Clary was his best friend, he loved her and always had.

But Luke… well, Luke was pretty much her father. Ever since she was born, Luke had always been there. He was her only paternal figure, and as much as he acted like a friendly uncle or close friend- he really saw himself as her dad. Anyone could tell. Whatever Simon had been feeling was inferior compared to the older man's emotions. Now that Jocelyn wasn't around, Luke saw himself as Clary's only family. He was the only parental figure she had now and he felt obligated to keep her safe. Luke was, in his own mind, responsible for Clary. The pain and fear in his eyes was so genuine that Simon grimaced with a sharp wince.

"God, Simon! Weren't you listening to Oliver at all?" Luke snapped. "She was alone. Clary was alone when she left that apartment! She willingly left and willingly returned. Which means she probably hasn't been forced to do anything by anyone. Do you think that a kidnapper would let his victim go out on a shopping spree alone?!"

Simon shook his head slowly and closed his eyes with the weight of Luke's realisation. Damn. In some ways this was nearly worse. Crashing into an evil lair with fists and swords brandished to fight off a coven of bad guys, before leading a joyous Clary to safety was one thing. Convincing a hormonal, teenage girl to come home after running away was another. Especially when they didn't understand the reasoning behind it all.

"All this time we thought that Valentine was involved. Either that or some other demonic creature. If what Oliver said is true, it just means that something happened to upset Clary so much that she ran away! And the last person she saw was Jace. So he probably has something to do with this whether he realises or not. You saw him the last few days, Simon. He is a liability- picking fights with Downworlders and pissing off everything he comes into contact with. If we want to persuade Clary to come back, do you really think sending Jace is a good idea? He could screw this up in so many ways, Simon, and I will never forgive myself if Clary gets hurt- and I don't just mean physically." Luke hit his hand loudly against the steering wheel. He looked broken down and furious all at once.

Simon ran his hands through his dark hair and let out a weary sigh. "We will get her back. We have to."

The truck came to an abrupt halt. Alec and Isabelle Lightwood hopped into the back, armed to their teeth with weapons. Isabelle's wrists and ankles jingled and jangled impressively with the massive amount of bracelets and anklets. They were both covered in black runes and the smell of freshly applied Marks tinged the air inside Luke's rumbling pick-up.

"We probably won't need all that," Simon informed them, gesturing to the daggers, swords, seraph blades and Marks.

"Why?" Alec asked.

Never taking his eyes of the tarmac ahead, Luke growled in response. "We think she has run away."

"What?!" Isabelle shrieked. "Oh for the love of the Angel-" Alec elbowed his outraged sister and she promptly snapped her mouth shut. Clearly, she had learnt her lesson after voicing her thoughts to Jace.

"Yeah," Simon echoed grimly. "And Jace has decided to run off to the rescue, which obviously isn't going to end well. By the way, where's Max?"

Isabelle looked at the ground sheepishly. "Locked in his room."

At Simon's slightly horrified look, she immediately jumped to her own defence. "He has magazines in there! And water!" she protested.

Before any of them could reply, Luke's mobile started to ring shrilly. The owner shot it a disgusted look. "Someone answer that before I chuck it out the window."

Simon grabbed the juddering phone from the dashboard as Luke swerved left sharply causing all his passengers to swing to the side. Isabelle glared at him as she tried to fix her hair.

"Hello?… Yes this is Lucian Graymark's phone. May I ask who is speaking?"

Alec smirked. "Secretary," he muttered.

"Emmm, he is driving right now. Could he ring you back later, is it urgent?" If nothing, Simon's mother had lectured him in the art of proper telephone etiquette. "Okay, he will get back to you as soon as possible… You're welcome."

Luke glanced at the teenager in the seat beside him. "Who was it?"

"Some woman. I thought she might be a customer looking for a book or something."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Would a Mundie refer to Luke as Lucian Graymark? Honestly, Simon."

"What was her name?" Luke asked as they paused at a set of red traffic lights.

"Some French sounding name. Beautiful flower or something like that," he replied nonchalantly.

Luke's eyes grew wide and his head whipped around to look at Simon. "Her name. Tell me what she said her name was."


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry for the delay- homework is crazy right now =(  
It might be a few days before chapter 17 arrives... sorry again, I'm doing my best!! =] Thank you for reading, reviewing and adding to favourites/alerts!!! Hope you like this one!**

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A sharp wind ripped through Jace's tangled hair, immediately drying it in a way that looked like it had not been brushed in a week. The golden locks were matted and uncontrollable. And Jace didn't care. He was driving so fast that the strained roar of the bike threatened to perforate his eardrums, and he eyes were narrowed so much with the wind that he could barely see. He didn't have time to grab a helmet. All the Shadowhunter had was an address and his stone cold determination.

The end was so near that Jace could nearly feel it. Anticipation was rolling off him in waves. Clary. Clary was close. He had thought he had failed, he had given in to the desolation that had accompanied that thought. Drowning in his sorrows- in every clichéd way possible. Damn scotch had been a bad idea. But that didn't matter now- he had not failed after all. Sure, he had needed a bit of help- but that was irrelevant now. Clary was close. Clary was okay. Jace would get Clary back. All problems solved. All pain healed. All back to normal.

Jace revved up again, and the powerful bike groaned- it was pushed far past its limits. Jace was gone past caring- the bike could total, it could burst into flames as soon as he threw it roughly to the ground on Coldors Street. As long as it got him to Clary, the bike could die a miserable death afterwards and he wouldn't turn a blind eye. He swerved left rapidly and nearly got tossed off. Reckless abandonment for his own safety. Passers-by shook their heads critically. Jace sped up again, weaving illegally through traffic. Seeing a bottle-neck up ahead, the bike soared into the air and the Nephilim sitting atop it thanked his lucky stars that Mundies couldn't see it.

Clary. That was all that mattered. He had to get to Clary.

Jace went into a nose-dive towards the inky tarmac beneath him. Coldors Street. Not a bad neighbourhood. Far from a good neighbourhood. It was a little rough, somewhat dirty with decaying buildings covered in graffiti proclaiming love in fluorescent flourishes. Ahh, the modern day sonnet or bouquet of flowers. A scribble on a piece of cement for the entire world to see. How romantic, how endearing and positively sweet. Jace snorted.

His bike was propped up against a doodled wall beside two tarnished and dented trashcans. It would probably be stolen. He didn't care. This was the apartment. This was what it had all been leading up to. Clary was at the top of those stairs. His stele was grasped in his left hand, a seraph blade in his right. A dagger was open for quick access at his hip and another sheathed inside each of his boots. One could never be too sure.

Clary had been let out of the apartment, but werewolves weren't always the most observant- well that Olivier or Oscar or Olive… something along those lines, surely hadn't been the brightest crayon in the box. If there were a darker colour then pitch black, that werewolf would have been it. Clary could have been held by magical handcuffs, and the dog wouldn't have noticed. She could be possessed. There were a million possibilities- an Jace wanted to be as prepared as possible for each one.

When she gone back into the apartment, Clary had gone into the apartment on the second floor. Luckily the Downworlder had possessed enough grey matter to realise going into the building after her to see which apartment she was in was a good idea.

The second floor. Who knew what kind of evil megalomaniacs or downright lunatics could be lurking there with his Clary. But not for long.

It was a dark brown wooden door with streaked paint that looked like ever-dripping sludge. The paint in the corridor was old and yellowing- even though it had originally been green. Gripping the seraph blade tightly, Jace drew a swift Opening Rune on the stained door with his stele. It slid ajar silently and Jace pushed it with hesitant yet anticipating fingers. Clary, Clary, Clary. Fight them all except Clary. Fight them off, knock them down, save her. Simple.

A sagging couch, bare wooden floor and coffee table. Pieces of paper spread on the ground beside discarded pencils and coloured stumps of chalk. The kitchen behind him held a spindly table with four wooden chairs and all the usual utensils- it paled miserably in comparison to the Institute's. The place appeared to be deserted, but there were three closed doors set into the far wall. Bathrooms? Storage? Bedrooms?

Jace stalked stealthily towards the doors, careful not to make any noise. His eyes locked on the targets ahead, his stele and seraph blades digging into the palm of his hands in preparation. But then he froze. As his eyes swept his surroundings, Jace glimpsed something that rendered him motionless. The pieces of paper. They were drawings. Pictures. Sketches. Works of art.

But not just any old scribbles. No. These were Clary's pieces of art. Her masterpieces.

And there, right at his feet, was one of himself. So real, it was like looking in a mirror. Set determination in his eyes as the cast back behind him. His cheek bones were sharp beneath his tousled hair and tiny scars flecked his skin. The black motorbike he was sitting upon almost leapt off the page- it made him look even more powerful and imposing. It was Jace- all strength and independence. It was him- exposing his soul bare for the world to see. The cold steel of his eyes masking those tiny insecurities that no one else knew existed… except Clary.

The determination of getting to the other doors evaporated. The portrait of himself had captivated him completely. Stuck him in a moment he couldn't tear himself out of. There were others too- Isabelle, Jocelyn, Magnus, Simon and Luke. All busting full of life. She was so talented. Jace knew he needed to continue with the mission- get back to finding Clary.

"Jace…" A light voice gasped.

The voice. It resounded in his soul. The voice that had haunted him constantly, now here in person. In corporeal form. Suddenly, everything seemed okay. This was nowhere near over yet, but Jace instantly felt more secure.

"Clary," he whispered, clutching his stele. "Thank the Angel."


	17. Chapter 17

**I'm so sorry this took a while to put up- hectic life at the moment! But I have made this chapter extra long to make up!! It will probably be a few days before I manage to update again =(  
Thank you so much to everyone reading and reviewing and adding to favourites etc.! You guys are great! Let me know what you think of this one, I love hearing your feedback! =]**

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"Jace?" Clary's voice held a note of sheer, unadulterated shock. "What are you doing here?"

The redhead didn't sound happy to see the tall Shadowhunter. Shock and confusion seemed to be the only description for her reaction. Both marked her face and made her forehead furrow into a surprised frown.

"I'm here to… save you…" The answer sounded more like a question even to the speaker himself. It wasn't long until Jace's forehead scrunched up too and little lines of confusion puckered the smooth skin around his sharp eyes and firmly set mouth.

"I…" Clary gave a humourless chuckle- a dry noise. "I don't need _saving, _Jace. What on earth gave you that idea? Why would I need rescuing from somewhere I want to be? No one forced me to come here, Jace. I chose to stay here. With a friend. What did you think was going on?"

And for once the witty, sarcastic blonde before her was lost for words. With his contorted face, he stared at her from his motionless, rigid stance in the middle of the room beside all her drawings. His seraph blade was still clenched tightly and ridiculously in his fist. A sense of horrible awkwardness washed over him, it was more chillingly and sobering then any ocean of freezing water that Magnus Bane could ever hurl at him.

The Nephilim shook his head slowly. "No- no… you… Clary, it's okay, I know what's going on and it's all going to be fine. Once we get home-"

"The Institute isn't my home, Jace." She interrupted gently. "It's your's."

Jace now looked angry and his frown deepened around his dark eyes. "Clary, they did something to you, okay. This isn't you! Now we have to get you out of here before it's too late. Come on!" He quickly closed the space between them with a purposeful stride and grabbed her wrist.

"Get off me, Jace!" Her voice was annoyed and she tried to snatch her hand back from his vice-like grip. Long, strands of curling copper hair brushed against his arm as she struggled against him. Jace's eyes were blazing and desperate as he tugged at her arm.

"Clary, stop it!" he hissed. "Whatever this thing is, it has messed with you, we need to get out of here before you get hurt!"

"Jesus, Jace! You are the only one hurting me," her voice bit. And he knew it was true, the skin beneath his tight grip was warm and turning an agitated red colour. "I want to be here! You have no idea what you are doing- I have friends here and I am not leaving!"

As they struggled against each other in the centre of the room, Jace heard a sound coming from one of the mysterious rooms. Footsteps. He mentally swore and shoved his stele and seraph blade into his pocket where he could grab again in a second or so.

"Shut up, Clary!" he growled- the girl had been making noise as she fought to get free from him. His arm hooked in under her waist and Jace had her half scooped up in his arms when the sound of a doorknob turning greeted his ears. This time he swore out loud. Keeping his arm around Clary, he manoeuvred her so that she was shielded by his body. In a fast, fluid movement, Jace's seraph blade was back in his hand and pointed directly at the door. His face wasn't scrunched up or confused now. This was his thing. This was Jace in his element- in battle. The smooth planes of his face were impassive with a strong underlying hint of ferocious and dangerous calm.

The door squeaked open and a tall woman dressed in black stepped out. Her long hair was like coarse, spun silver. Rings decorated her fingers and black make-up framed her steel eyes. Her eyes flashed when she noticed the Shadowhunter in her apartment. They narrowed when she saw his captive.

"Stand right there and don't even think of moving," Jace commanded. "Take one step and I send this blade right through you."

Clary writhed under his arm; kicking, ducking and diving as she tried to get loose. Jace was too strong for her and his bulging muscles kept her pressed close to his back.  
"Don't!" she screamed. "Don't hurt her, Jace! Maddie, stay still. Just do what he asks and don't move!"

The older woman and the imposing Shadowhunter froze, locked in a visual standoff. Clary was still struggling. Her hands, which had previously been pushing her brother's arm away, suddenly grabbed onto it. She lifted her leg and smashed her foot forcefully into Jace's knee, causing his legs to buckle forward for a second. Clary pushed his imprisoning arm upwards and ducked under it. She was free.

Clary's freckled cheeks were flushed red and her hair was standing statically on the top of her head. Her eyes held a note of triumph that overshadowed her earlier hints of frantic anxiety and confusion. She stood on the fringe of the room, halfway between Jace and Madeleine.

"Jace, what the hell are you doing?" Her face softened as she looked at his torn features.

He never lowered his blade from where it was pointed at the stranger across from him. "I'm here to get you back, Clary." His desperate tone filled the room, his golden eyes flicking between the two women. "We need you Clary. You have to know that! Luke, Simon, me- we need you to come back! I don't know who she is but, Clary… I need you to come back with me."

Clarissa Fray's lips turned down at the corners and she took her lower lip in between her teeth. Emerald eyes darted from Jace to Madeleine, and back again. His eyes were desperately pleading. Jace. Begging. Needing. None of those words fit together in the same sentence. It didn't fit, and yet that was how he felt- all because of her. That familiar pain in her chest returned. His rich voice had sounded as though he needed her. As though it were imperative that she came back to him. And it was a broken sound. His face suddenly became much clearer to her- the bloodshot lines in his dull eyes; the almost gaunt and drained appearance of his face; the deep, purple, blue and black bags in the hollows beneath his eyes. The way he looked at her, the way his beautiful face screwed up in pain, the way he had come her to save her. The way he had fought to keep her safe from what he thought was a monster or demon, putting himself in danger.

But then there was Madeleine. The woman who had travelled so far to see her. The woman working herself into the ground to save Clary's mother from a life in a hospital bed. The sweet, kind, dedicated woman who had been her mother's best friend. An image of her scars flashed in Clary's mind. Deep, jagged scars that Madeleine had received from saving both her and her mother all those years ago. And she never held a grudge. She was still here to save them again.

"Clary, come on. Come back with me." Jace. His voice holding that frenzied desperation and pleading that she knew all to well. Everything about him showing the pain that she knew even better.

"Clary, sweetheart," Madeleine sounded frightened. At the prospect of losing her? "Oh, don't leave me dear! Think of your mother- of poor Lynnie in that horrid hospital. I need you, dear. And you need me, don't you?"

The woman's face was anguished as Clary gazed at her through glassy eyes. She was being made choose.

"But of course you don't. You don't need me. I just need you- like your poor mother does… You should go dear, go with him if it's what you want… Oh Lynnie!" Madeleine's cold eyes brimmed with tears and she gave a muffled sniff. Jace, on the other hand, had a firmly set jaw as if he were biting back acrid words of sarcastic hate. And in that moment, Clarissa Fray felt horribly torn and confused.

"Clary, don't listen to this! She's manipulating you, you have to come back with me. By the Angel, how many times do I have to say it?! I need you!"

The bare room seemed to close in on the redheaded Nephilim, and all at once she felt like a young child who desperately needed to cling to her mother for solace and guidance. Madeleine could give her that option again. And Jace- what could he give her? Snide comments, pain, hurt? But no- what about the side of Jace Wayland that nobody ever saw but her? The side of him that put her first even if it hurt him so severely? The side that needed her, to protect her? She cared for him, for the person that she shouldn't want but did.

"You see Clarissa? Do you see the difference now?" Madeleine asked quietly. "It's all black and white for him." The woman took small steps forward with her arms outstretched to hold Clary.

"Get back!" Jace roared. "Get away from her! Don't you dare touch her!" His seraph blade jerked forward, straining in his hand. A sharply glinting dagger appeared suddenly in his other hand from his pocket. Both were pointed at the harmless woman standing slightly closer to Clary then he was. This wasn't vulnerable Jace Wayland that Clary was used to glimpsing- this was Warrior Jace the Shadowhunter. Scary Jace that would kill the innocent, pure woman in front of him.

"Get back now," he growled at her again.

In the corner of her eye, Clary could see Madeleine shake her head in something that resembled pity. "You see, Clarissa? He lives in a different world to you. It's all black and white, good or bad. And if he can't have you, nobody else deserves to. Just look at the pictures, Clary. The portraits you drew. You belong with people who see the world the way you do- colour and life and joy. You don't belong in his world- it's full of evil, darkness and pain. He will inflict that on you, draw you into it until you can't get out. Like Valentine tried to destroy poor Lynnie, except I was there to save you both. What if nobody does that for you? What if you get sucked into all that dreadful evil and pain, dear, and you can't get out? He will pollute you with that horrid life and drag you down, drag everyone else down with you too. Think of poor Simon and what he is now."

Clary's face turned impossibly paler. She was like an alabaster statue that was frozen in a pose of agonised grief.

"Just look at the pictures, darling. You know that it's all true- you drew them, my dear. You belong with us- all of us who live happy lives of colour. If you go with him, you will end up shrouded in that terrible world of black and white, of death and pain. And your poor mother will stay in that wretched hospital bed, as though I never saved her from your father at all."

She couldn't breathe. If she opened her mouth she would surely sob. Break down and cry because of all the things Jace exposed her to. To all the ways he had hurt her and would hurt her. Her mother needed her- Clary had lost her chance to save Simon, but with Madeleine's help Jocelyn could be saved. Jocelyn needed her. Madeleine needed her. Jace didn't, he would only hurt her. To love is to destroy- Valentine had tried to destroy her mother, and Jace would only end up destroying her. It was all there- in her own work. Jace standing alone, in fierce strength and dangerous demeanour. Defiant and powerfully strong. Relishing the cold independence that surrounded him.

"Jace," even to her own ears, Clary's voice sounded hoarse and distorted. "I think you should leave."

The Shadowhunter whipped around to face her, the blades still never leaving Madeleine's direction. "No!" His eyes were panicked. "Clary!"

"I said, you should leave." An unemotional reiteration. It echoed and resonated in the apartment like the knelling of a bell, a death toll- loud and shattering.

With those words, Jace lost his worried look and his eyes became cold and hard. It almost hurt Clary to look at him. Gone was every sense of vulnerability and humanity. He was just a soldier with a blade in hand. Untouchable, impenetrable, without human emotions. He gave her a look as if to say- fine, you have made your choice and now you will have to live with it. A look that said: this is the end. A cold look that was so fierce and loathing that Clary wanted to instantly recoil and apologise before running to him with open arms. If looks could kill…

"Goodbye Clarissa," Jace said with a tangible note of finality.

He turned on his heel and shut the door. It didn't slam or crash or bang. Just closed with a click. Shutting her off from him. Severing the ties between them. Clary swayed and fell to her knees in an onslaught of burningly salty tears. It was Madeleine's arms that enveloped her, but they weren't the ones Clarissa wanted around her- so she cried even harder.


	18. Chapter 18

**So, I was drowning in a horrible sea of overwhelming homework, and then I stopped working and thought: You know what, screw it! So I wrote this instead- a little rushed and a very overdramatic last line, but whatever! Here's Chapter 18- another insight into the complex place that is Jace's mind! Hope you enjoy this- love hearing from you guys, let me know what you think!! =]**

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Jace strode out of the apartment and closed the door without looking back. It connected with the jamb in a sharp click. He didn't know where he was going. He just had to get out. They were no demons to fight in that apartment- only a person he had once held in high regard.

Betrayal. That was the main emotion. Pain- that was a given. But the only pain he had come here expecting had been the physical kind- and he would have preferred that. Once again that throbbing emptiness in his chest threatened to consume him from the inside out. The last few days- all that he had done, all he had tried to do, all he had gone through… it was all for nothing. Clary didn't want him. Not in any way, shape or form. She had never wanted to be with him, and now she didn't even want to be his family or friend.  
She asked him to leave. Then she told him to leave. Clarissa Fray had just picked a complete stranger over him. And he couldn't help wondering, like the classical angst-ridden teenager, what had he done wrong? Was it just him as a person- his biting sarcasm, his habit of pushing people away? Was it because he was clearly his father's son?

Jace had considered all the options- demonic forces, evil spells, witches, his father. But the worst thing was, was that it had not been any of those. The silver haired woman was just a woman. Another person. A person Clary had chosen over him. It was the worst outcome he could have imagined and it fuelled him with so may emotions that he couldn't begin to decipher any of them. Beneath the pain and betrayal, there was anger. Fury and pain- the deadliest cocktail. Jace knew that if he wasn't careful he would end up succumbing to the emotions and doing something foolishly destructive. So he did what he usually did. Jace became cold. Shutting everything out and bottling everything up. He knew that if he looked in a mirror he would see that familiar coldness burning in his eyes. The look that instilled fear in others. Had it scared Clary? Of course it had, he had seen her recoiling in horror and disgust. No wonder she had chosen the gentle woman with the terms of endearment and calm tone of voice.

He never should have done it. Never should have let him self get so damned close. But he couldn't help it- Clary had enraptured him, he had thought she was different. But she wasn't. She was just the same as all the others- and more fool him for believing otherwise. The real source of anger for Jace was the fact that he had let her in- he had let Clarissa Fray see him at his most vulnerable, she had seen all those stupid parts of him that he hid behind the sarcasm and the stele. She had seen him, seen who he was, and then thrown it back in his face without a second thought. Betrayal.

With a sharp snap of his wrist, Jace yanked the motorcycle towards him. The blazing, blaring graffiti taunted him cruelly. The one in scrawled, electric blue letters grabbed his attention.

__

**Daz woz ere lovin Emma foreva!! xxx**

Poor boy, Jace thought, not only is he named after a brand of washing powder, and horrendously illiterate- but he was also going to get his little love-filled heart broken. Poor foolish child. And Jace couldn't help but wonder- who were Daz and Emma? A pretty sixteen year old girl, with black and purple hair perhaps. A girl who wore snug t-shirts and dark-washed jeans- she liked pop music and had a sweet tooth. And Daz? A love sick puppy, no doubt. A tough one though- pierced eyebrow and dark, spiked hair. Maybe smoked the occasional cigarette until Emma persuaded him to stop. He liked rock music- but would listen to popular drivel to appease darling Emma. Because he would do anything for her.

Only, one day, Emma would meet someone else. Someone who liked pop music and had no piercings. Someone who sucked peppermints and turned up his nose at the pungent odour of smoke. And then poor Daz would be left by the wayside- thrown out and alone. Heavy metal would blast in his room as he beat up his own pillow, then he would probably end up smoking a cigarette and mourning his horrible loss while he gazed at stabbing photographs on his bedside locker.

They were destined to the same fate- hypothetical Daz and tortured Jace. Destined to be betrayed by the only ones they cared for, and ordained to spend fruitless hours debating what they had done wrong. Had they done anything wrong at all?

The blonde Shadowhunter gritted his teeth together- thoroughly sick of his own meandering thoughts. He growled menacingly at the fluorescent proclamation of false love and gave the sturdy wall a vicious kick. It hurt his foot despite the strength runes and ornate iratze inscribed on his flesh. Yet the throbbing pain in his foot wasn't enough- he needed more. There had to be some way to cancel out the ferociously gaping void in his chest, but Jace didn't know what it was. Drinking hadn't worked, it only added to his melancholy. He needed to sleep but knew he couldn't. He needed to eat but he would surely be sick. He needed her but she didn't want him.

It was weakness. Jace Wayland was not a weak man- not on the surface. No one would ever have the gall to call Jace Wayland weak or lacking in strength. Not if they wanted to remain conscious anyway.

But this was weakness. The abhorred sensation of needing to cry- weep like a pathetic child- was weakness, a weakness threatening to overwhelm him. He craved some release for everything pent up within him- a feral roar to the vacant high heavens or a bone-shattering punch delivered to anything at all. Weakness was wrong. It was not him- yet he was drowning in it.

The leg throbbing with minor ache was masterfully swung over Jace's powerful black motorbike. He had just started the engine when a high-pitched screech sounded around him. A car skidding to an abrupt stop. Or rather- a pick-up truck halting to attention with a strong smash to its creaking brakes.

"Jace?!" Isabelle cried. "What's going on?"

Luke regarded him with a detectable note of calculating hostility. "Where is she Jonathon? Where's Clary?"

Simon had gracefully spilled out of the car and stepped up to Luke's side as they all stared at Jace expectantly. The Nephilim merely watched them all blankly, resisting the urge to give a derisive snort at their foolishness. They were all idiots- just like him. Simon- the poor, undead fool. He loved Clarissa too much for his own good- she would only hurt him again too. And Luke- when she deserted him he would like just as much of a failure as Jace did.

Through shrewdly narrowed eyes that concealed every ounce of feeling the boy bore on his shoulders, he simply looked. The anxiety adorning their faces. The fear and tension. The fretful worry that would make way for pain.

Jace quirked a knowing, sceptical, patronising eyebrow at them all and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his dishevelled head.

"You're wasting you time. Every last one of you," he said in that same cold voice. The one that masked his grief and pain. The one that he fought to keep intact and un-breaking.

"She doesn't want you. It was all for nothing. She doesn't want any of us."

The bike was still humming beneath Jace, as four faces scrunched up in confusion and disbelief. Simon showed more disbelief then the others. He should have known better then any of them by now, Jace thought. Simon was to be pitied… and empathised with. Unrequited declarations of love suddenly weren't so amusing.

Turning his head to the side, Jace flicked up the gears on his bike and shot away with a loud explosion of dominant engineering. Here one minute, gone the next. All that mattered was getting away from the cursed place that was Coldors Street. He could find a way to defeat his crushing pain later- getting away was the first step. He fled so fast that Jace couldn't even hear the cries of those he left behind above the buzz of his bike.

They would know soon enough, they would understand just how right Valentine Morgenstern had been all those years ago.

To love was to destroy.

And Clarissa Fray was destroying them all.


	19. Chapter 19

**Huge, huge thanks to everyone reading and reviewing!!!! Wow- you guys are great!  
So, I have a suggestion... I propose we wage a war on homework. All in favour say 'Aye!' (If we win the war you will get much much better chapters and you will get them faster too!!!!) Anyway, I'll put this one up for now. I wish it could be better and apologies for making you wait!! Now, back to my work I trudge! =(  
Let me know what you think about this one- hope the ending doesn't drive you crazy! Don't worry though- this isn't the end! I wouldn't do that to you lol!!! =]**

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Isabelle and Alec stared at Jace as he sped away without so much as a glance back. They were more then aware that they were the only ones who really cared- the others were here for Clarissa Fray, not Jace Wayland. The Lightwoods didn't need to hear Jace's words to know how utterly distraught and furious he was- the familiar look in his eyes which had magnified tenfold told them that much, the words only backed it up. There were tightly reigned in as he tried not to show how affected he was. Clearly, the rescue mission for Clary had not gone well. While the Lightwoods helplessly watched Jace disappear, Simon and Luke began to rush into the apartment block and proceeded to the stairs. Reluctantly, Alec and Isabelle followed- steles, whips and blades at the ready.

As they mounted the stairs, the unmistakable sound of weeping reached their ears. Small, female cries that were muffled and stifled. On approaching the second floor, the sniffs and whimpers became noticeably sharper. Isabelle moved strategically ahead of her brother and Simon. With one powerful kick, the strong door in front of them rattled on its hinges and shuddered open. Luke strode in first, followed by Isabelle brandishing a golden-edged whip.

And there, on the floor, wrapped in a stranger's arms, was an unmistakable shock of red hair. Burning brightly like an amber stone in the direct light of the summer's sun. The coppery red was pressed into a black-clad shoulder until it meshed together with a mane of pure, spun silver.

"Clary?" Simon asked, worry lacing his tone.

Isabelle, Alec and Luke uttered one simultaneous demand- it was said with such perfect, unplanned perfection that in any other situation everybody present would have laughed.

"Don't move," they commanded all at once. But no one laughed, they merely held their ground as the woman held Clary. One false move could put her in more danger then she was already in.

The light cries faded away with a number of small sniffs and a red-eyed Clary turned to face the intruders. Surprise contorted her face for the second time in a number of minutes, and for a few seconds it overpowered the pain consuming her within.

"W- what are you doing here?" she asked tearfully.

"Saving you," Simon replied. "Despite what Jace advised us…"

At the mention of her brother's name a flash of grief passed across Clary's freckled face. "I don't _need _saving or rescuing from anyone!"

Isabelle strode over to where the girl was huddled on the floor. A heavily ringed hand was stroking her copper hair as she wiped her cheeks. "I'll be the judge of that," Isabelle growled. "Get up," she snapped to the entanglement of limbs on the ground.

Two bodies rose from the floor slowly, and the darkly-clothed stranger kept her arms around Clary. Bright portraits crumpled under Isabelle's stiletto heels on the paper-strewn floor. Pieces of chalk were diminished to coloured dust and made tracks beneath the soles of Izzy's shoes. Alec was analysing all possible routes of escape and plans of action. The couch was well placed and if he grabbed Clarissa quickly he could use it to shelter his fall. It would leave Isabelle slightly open but the silver-haired woman would be completely exposed.

"Isabelle, stop. This is completely uncalled for- Maddie would never hurt me. Please drop the dagger." Clary's voice was choked up and hoarse, but it was obvious that she believed in her words.

Possession, Alec guessed, or a deceiving spell.

"I won't hurt Clary- I swear it, dear," the stranger said softly.

Alec scoffed silently- oh yes, calling Isabelle Lightwood patronising names of endearment was _really _going to help her case.

The grim, calculating look on Isabelle's face never faltered. The jaw was still rigid, and her eyes coldly bright. "Then let her go," she challenged coldly, keeping her weapon raised steadily.

Alec leant forward on his feet, ready to spring. Cornered beasts were likely to attack. He felt Luke tense at his side- the woman was trapped. Simon edged around the trio of women in the centre of the room so that he was blocking Clary's captor on the other side. Four walls, four fighters. No way out. This was the crucial part- a cornered serpent would not hesitate to deliver a deathly venomous bite. Alec slid a seraph blade into his only empty hand. Extra ammunition. His eyes never left his sister.

Slowly, the arms cloaked in a black sleeve unwound from Clary's body. The woman held her hands suspended in the air at her sides, as though proclaiming peace.

"Clary," Isabelle instructed, guard still up. "Walk towards me. Slowly. Get over here and don't dare argue." Isabelle's no-nonsense tone. It was no surprise that Clary obeyed- only a fool with a death wish would dare to disagree with Isabelle Lightwood. They would probably walk away with an eight inch heel protruding from their eye… if they walked away at all.

Looking upset, frustrated and angry, Clary began to step forward- one careful step after another. And then, there it was. For a fraction of a second, Isabelle's eyes flicked towards Alec. The first time the had moved from the woman in silver and onyx. Alec tensed even tighter- every nerve and muscle wound tighter then a coiled spring. Quickly, Izzy's gaze flew back to the woman- it was all so fast that no one would even realise the silent communicate between the siblings had ever taken place.

_1_

2

_3_

_Go!_

The dark-haired Shadowhunter lunged to the side in a leap that held a considerable amount of catlike grace and stealth. His long, muscled arms encircled Clary and pulled her forcefully to his chest. Alec spun in the air, protecting Clarissa with his own body before they crashed with a dull thud onto the battered couch. It had all happened in a rapid succession of seconds. Those unused to battle tactics and hostage negotiation would barely have known what had happened until long after it had taken place. Sure enough, roughly twenty seconds later Simon hissed and Luke gave a low growl.

A sweeping glance told Alec that the redhead beneath him was fine and, most importantly, unharmed. As his eyes swept upwards to his sister he grinned. Isabelle stood in the centre of the room but there was no longer any space between her and the stranger. One of Izzy's arms were locked around the woman's chest and neck, trapping her against Isabelle's own body. A very sharp dagger was pressed far too close against the stranger's exposed throat. Right beside the jugular.

_Never mess with a Lightwood_, Alec thought smugly. Simon took Clarissa's hand in his and pointedly gave Alec a look that clearly said- I'm here now, you can step back.

And he did, happily. Alec started skirting around his sister and her hostage- one can never be too careful. Better safe then sorry, after all.

"Leave her alone!" Clary screeched. "She hasn't done anything wrong!"

"Name," Isabelle barked, ignoring the other Nephilim.

"Madeleine," the woman gasped weakly.

"Full name." Isabelle pushed the knife closer and a tiny bead of blood bubbled on the surface of pale skin.

"Madeleine Bellefleur-"

"Hey! That was the name of-" Simon cut in, only to be glared at by Alec. Sulking, he closed his mouth.

"I am a friend of Jocelyn's. We were best friends before Clary was born," the choked voice continued. "I am here to help Clarissa cure her mother."

Clary was struggling once again, this time against Simon. "Stand still, Fray or I swear I'll bite you." He grunted, trying to hold her close. Clary was frankly getting sick of people trying to save her, and she was definitely tiring of being grabbed and held uncomfortably close.

"It's true," the distressed girl called, resigning to stand still. "She came to visit Mum. Madeleine is only here to help. God, Simon, will you let me go?! And Madeleine too- please!"

Isabelle's grip began to loosen sceptically. The dagger began to inch very gradually away from Madeleine's flesh.

"No!" Luke yelled. "Do not let that woman go, Isabelle. Whatever you do, do not let her go!"

Luke strode forward, peering at Isabelle and Madeleine through wild eyes behind golden frames. They were widened with some unknown information, before they narrowed furiously. With bated breath, the others froze in the small apartment among the debris of ground up chalk and torn paper. No one dared to move, Isabelle huffed and rolled her eyes impatiently.

"Why? Luke tell me what is going on- not that I don't enjoy holding people at knifepoint, but this is getting somewhat confusing, you know."

"That," Luke growled dangerously, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. "Is not Madeleine Bellefleur."


	20. Chapter 20

**Thank you so much for reading an reviewing!! I really appreciate it!  
To everyone who reviews and isn't logged in- thank you so much, i wish i could reply to you properly! To sparkoflight- If I could update sooner, I would. Unfortunatly I am in my last year of school and have an unbelievable workload- it's hard to update as frequently as I do already.**

**Thank you again to everyone- hope you like this one! =]**

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"That," Luke growled dangerously, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.

"Is not Madeleine Bellefleur.

With those words, Isabelle's grip on the woman re-tightened and her sharp blade sprung to rigid attention once more. The fast readjustment of the blade caused the dim sun glowing in the room to glint off the metal threateningly. A beautiful, shiny blade that possessed the power to destroy, held in the hand of a girl who was exactly the same.

The woman's eyes widened and although she stayed still, it was clear that she was getting flustered. "Whatever do you mean, Lucian? It's me- Madeleine. Madeleine Bellefleur. Surely you haven't forgotten?"

"Don't," Luke snapped furiously. "I don't know who you are, but don't you dare insinuate that I don't know who Madeleine Bellefleur is. Madeleine Bellefleur was- and is- a close friend of mine since we were children, she is an honourable woman who does not deserve to have her good name tainted by your pathetic attempts at deception."

Clary had frozen were she stood. It had been a very long time since she had seen Luke this angry, in fact she wasn't sure if she had ever seen him this angry. Simon's grip on her hand slacked, and Alec was still poised in wary anticipation of dangerous attack. Clary could suddenly see what Jace meant when he said that Alec was always protecting others in dangerous situations- he had just saved her, and was now completely focused on doing the same for his sister if the tables somehow managed to turn. But Clary still refused to believe that Madeleine would lie to her- this was the woman who had sacrificed herself for Clary's mother and Clary herself, the woman who was helping her to save her mother… Wasn't she?

"Lucian- I know I have changed, but honestly-"

Luke cut across her savagely. "When did we last speak?"

"W-what?" She stuttered. "Well… I… I truly cannot remember, Lucian. It has been so long."

Isabelle recognised the look in Luke's eyes- but she was shocked that it was in his eyes that she saw it. She knew what it meant though- she ducked with quick instinct. Just in time to dodge the hand that hit 'Madeleine's' face.

"How dare you!" he seethed. "Madeleine Bellefleur phoned me not twenty minutes ago. Simon answered, I rang her back straight away."

Clary's stomach sunk. Madeleine did not have a phone. Madeleine had been with her all day. Madeleine was not Madeleine at all.

"Who sent you?" Luke snarled. "Don't try to keep up the lie- it is clearly unravelled and not veritable. You will answer my questions, or the pretty girl holding that knife at your throat will cut it."

In the corner, Clarissa Fray shivered. This was not Luke- not her Luke. Not kind-hearted, passive, homely Luke. Perhaps this was Lucian Graymark. An Alpha werewolf would have to be somewhat ferocious, wouldn't he? Clary knew that in order to become Alpha, Luke had to kill the previous title holder-but she had never really linked the images of reality together before. In her mind, Luke was still 'Uncle Luke' with the gentle eyes and love of books. This person was just plain scary.

"Why should I tell you anything?" The woman spat harshly.

Confirmation. The crushing weight of all her guilt and idiocy settled on Clary's shoulders and threatened to squash her heart. What had she done? Why, why, why had she let herself be led on by carefully fabricated lies? And why- for the love of God, why had she pushed Jace away? No, not pushed- shoved, kicked, forced. Clary felt as if her knees were going to buckle beneath her. How on earth could she have been so stupid? Jace- Jace Wayland. Her brother, the one who had been ready to sacrifice himself to save her, the one who went to the trouble of looking for her and worrying about her. The one she caused horrendous pain- she had seen it in his eyes. That final look that told her very clearly- _you made your choice. It wasn't me. Now you have to deal with the consequences._

"Because if you don't we will make you wish that cutting your throat was all we did to you," Alec replied calmly from the other side of the room.

The woman was deliberating. No matter what she did, she was screwed. So why not make things easier for herself?

"Valentine."

The darkly dressed captive's words shattered the tense silence.

"Valentine Morgenstern."

Luke swallowed loudly, "Why?"

The woman gave him a derisive, scathing look. "Can't a father take an interest in his one and only daughter?"

Luke whirled around to face Clary. "What did she do to you?"

"Nothing," Clary stumbled over the word. Nothing but lie to her and make her destroy her relationship with her own brother.

"I highly doubt you sat around drinking lattés for a week, Clarissa." Alec spoke wryly, there was a tangible edge to his voice though.

"Art," Clary said. "She made me draw and paint. We- we were going to help Mum."

Luke regarded her sharply. "What do you mean- you were going to help Jocelyn?"

Clary bit her lower lip. "She said that I could save Mum, with runes. My runes."

Luke an Alec both swore and Luke roughly shoved a hand into his hair. "Call Magnus," Luke said wearily. "Quickly."

Simon was the only one who dared to speak as Alec extracted a phone from one of his numerous pockets. "Why Magnus?" he asked from Clary's side.

"Because any knowledge of Clary's gift has be removed from her mind before we contact the Clave."

The redheaded Nephilim sunk back into the couch before her knees really did give way. This was not good. Her eyes swept the room and she couldn't help but notice how ridiculously surreal it all seemed: Luke running his fingers through his hair, Simon standing still as he stared, Alec speaking into a mobile phone and Isabelle holding a woman at knifepoint. All in the middle of a little apartment where the sun barely shone on a chalk covered floor that was littered with shreds of paper and a bleary shadow cast darkly around a half-consumed glass of herbal pond weed.

And the only other thing Clarissa could think, in the midst of all the surreal craziness, was that Jace should be standing there too. But she had ruined all chances of that, hadn't she?


	21. Chapter 21

**Thank you so much for reading an reviewing!! I love hearing from you! I would write more, but honestly I'm just too tired! I have to get up in roughly 5 hours and I am sooooo tired- but I thought I would write this and post it just in case I get home late tomorrow!! See- I do lvoe you guys!! lol, hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! Good Night!! **

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Jace had been driving for thirty-two minutes. He had counted every individual second in an attempt to distract his overactive brain activity. Although what he was doing wasn't really driving- cruising, soaring, coasting, flying- those were better adjectives. He knew that if he stuck to the roads, the other vehicles and drivers would irritate him so much that he would probably end up ploughing into the side of their cars or running somebody over. The sky held less danger. It let him feel like he was escaping- there were no limits up here, not until he ran out of fuel anyway.

It was calm up here, Jace thought. All he could hear was the loud sound of his motorbike's engine- but in the last thirty-four minutes he had become desensitised to the noise. The tumultuous nature of his raging thoughts helped to block out the rumbling revs as he gradually became angrily lost in them. Until thirty-seven minutes of furious silence shattered with a ringing from his pocket. A buzzing mobile phone. His vibrating mobile phone. Jace winced. As though the ringing phone caused him pain. He couldn't deal with other people, he couldn't stand any company. Not when his head was like this.

He wondered if it was Alec. How had the confrontation played out? No doubt similar to his. Maybe this was the apology call, the 'you were right, we were oh so very wrong' call. Clary had probably ditched them just as coldly as she had him. Luke would be upset, Simon would be heartbroken, Alec and Isabelle would be worried about him. Isabelle would smother him with her fussing, Alec would make him feel guilty as he desperately tried to cheer him up. And Jace knew, deep down, that he wasn't going to cheer up. Not for a while anyway. Betrayal cut deep. Betrayal executed by Clary stabbed and slashed, leaving lingering dashes of salt in the wounds.

The phone abruptly stopped ringing. Jace found that he felt strangely relieved, and realised that if he couldn't even speak to others, there was no way that he could face them. Hell, he couldn't even look at his phone in case seeing their names flashing on the screen would make him feel worse. The horrible, gaping hole in his chest was eating him from the inside out. An ugly inner demon that he couldn't seem to kill. A demon in the form of _her_. Her words, her face. Her bright eyes and her flaming hair. Her splash of freckles and her warm smile. Her anger and her tears. Her look of shocked disgust at him. His sister. His… something. Clary. But not _his _Clary.

The same thoughts were whirling around and around in his head. A spiralling stream of thoughts that circled continuously, never ending- no matter how hard he tried. Jace felt as if his head was too busy, too many trains of thought going on in there at once. So much so that Jace was worried there would be a pile-up on the tracks any time soon. A horrible train wreck of smashed metal and twisted debris. Anger and pain were still bubbling and boiling in his veins, flooding him and filling him bitterly to the brim. The Shadowhunter felt the urge to punch his way through a cement, brick wall; or to repeatedly hit his head off his the bike handlebars in front of him.

Groaning loudly, Jace swerved the bike into a nosedive. Now he knew what he was going to do. The familiar sight of the Institute quickly loomed into view. It approached at a frighteningly rapid pace. The motorcycle plummeted to the ground head-on and Jace only pulled up on the handlebars at the very last minute- narrowly avoiding a deathly collision with the black tarmac. He barely felt the adrenaline. He just felt numb, quivering with anger and drowning in hurt.

Jace climbed into the rickety elevator. He wearily trudged into his room, revelling in the empty silence. The first thing he did was crouch down on the floor in his bedroom. Beneath his bed was ridiculously dusty- so much so that the navy rucksack he pulled out was grey. A drab, dirty, dusty bag coated in pinkie-grey grime. A nice sized bag that was reasonably large- it would hold a lot, that was all Jace was interested in. He shook it out a few times, coughing as the dust surrounded his air and choked his lungs as he inhaled. It made his eyes tear up- he tried to tell himself that the dust was the only thing tearing him up. His own attempts weren't very convincing.

Every few minutes, the pesky phone in his pocket would kick into life again- driving the Nephilim crazy. He spent clipped moments in his room, sifting through personal items, ransacking wardrobes and imprinting the layout of the room in his mind. Making sure every single detail was permanently filed away in there. Just in case.

Once the door to his bedroom was quietly shut, he went directly to the weapons room. The last stop. A necessary one. Church yowled at his feet in the corridor, a gruff and complaining sound. Jace crouched down and scratched him thoroughly behind the ears- crabby, tetchy old cat. As he stood up gingerly, Jace's rucksack knocked against the hall table. He cringed, even though he knew the building was empty.

"Alec?" Came a voice from the other end of the Institute. "Isabelle? Come on, let me out! This is so unfair- I'm going to tell Mum and Dad when they get back and they are going to be so mad!"

Jace froze. Damn. Not so empty after all.

"Come on, I know you're there. Please let me out, I've been in here for ages!" Max's voice whined. "I'm hungry, Izzy! I'll even eat your cooking if you let me out, I promise!"

The old lock-the-unwanted-kid-up -and-run technique. Not very original- but highly effective. Another plea reverberated down the corridor once more, and Jace sighed loudly. His feet led him towards the imprisoned young boy against his own will. How could he not- it must be pretty bad when the poor kid would willingly eat anything Isabelle prepared. It was like signing a death warrant.

"Jace!" Max cried joyously, spilling through the door. "Thank the Angel, they locked me up. Again."

The tall and troubled Shadowhunter clutched an envelope in his right hand. His pale face was contorted as he looked down at the youngest of the Lightwoods.

"I need you to do something for me Max," he muttered hoarsely.

"Sure, Jace," he nodded enthusiastically. "What do you need? Are you okay? You look kind of sick- not really bad… well, pretty bad. Do you want some water? Or a-"

"Max," he interrupted. "I need you to promise that you will stay here until Iz or Alec come home."

"Aww, Jace! Not you too- how come everyone gets to go off fighting demons except me? You guys aren't old enough either- not really! Can't I please, please come? Just this once?"

"Promise me, Max." Jace continued as if he had never heard the boy's begging. "Promise me or I'll lock you up in your room again."

The youngest Lightwood pouted, jutting out his bottom lip. "Fine. I promise. No leaving until the evil captors return."

Jace ruffled Max's hair, a small shadow of a weak smile on his lips. "Good boy. Now, one other thing. You make sure either Izzy or Alec get this, okay?" He pressed the white envelope into Max's small hand just before it gave him a deep paper cut from being held too tightly.

"Sure…" It was then that Max took a good look at his idol. The dark shadows under his haunted eyes, the gaunt and pale pallor of his face and the bulky backpack hung on his strong shoulders. Jace never needed bags- Max didn't even think Jace Wayland owned a bag. "Jace… Why do you have a bag on your back? Are you going somewhere?"

The Nephilim merely pursued his lips into a grim line. It was enough to tell Max that, yes, Jace was going somewhere. Somewhere that maybe he didn't really want to go. Although that was stupid, because Jace didn't do anything that he didn't want to do. Or maybe it wasn't that he didn't want to go, maybe it was that he didn't want to leave.

"Will you be back tonight? I won't save any of Izzy's dinner for you."

Breaking the boy's earnest gaze, Jace started to walk away. "Don't forget about the letter, Max. Make sure they get it."

Max Lightwood simply stood and stared as the door closed. He took it that Jace would definitely not be back for dinner.


	22. Chapter 22

**Kind of expected more then one review for the last chapter... mainly because I stayed up to write it for you guys and ended up getting about 4 hours sleep lol! Oh well, let me know what you think- have I gone too far off-point etc.? Love to hear your opinions =] Thank you to -Debbie-Z- for reviewing!! **

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Magnus Bane was getting irritated. He was more then slightly put out. Magnus Bane was the High Warlock of Brooklyn, not some on-call doctor who everybody phoned for help and then never paid. If it hadn't been for a particularly handsome Shadowhunter with raven coloured hair and nicely defined muscles, he would have cast a horrendously vindictive spell on a certain group of Nephilim and Downworlders long ago. But Alec had been the one to call, and Magnus couldn't very well hang up on him. Especially not when it was an "urgent emergency." So now he was stuck in an apartment on Coldor's Street exhausting himself by using powerful magic he could have charged anyone else a bomb for.

The apartment itself was small and bare- people would probably call it quaint, or rough-around-the-edges. Magnus would have called it dilapidated and tasteless. The only colour was a spectrum of crushed chalk on the ground- an innovative fashion statement if done right. It wasn't done right. So the Warlock decided to make himself at home. A comfy, electric blue armchair with silver cushions appeared on top of the destroyed sheets of paper littering the floor, and Magnus primly set himself down in it as soon as he entered. This job was going to be exceedingly difficult, he had every right to make himself comfortable. The scene he had walked in on eluded him to the fact that this would be harder then most things this group usually required him for.

"Hello, the wonderful warlock is here! What do you hopeless children need now?" he had drawled as he flounced into the room in a dazzling burst of bright colour.

"Oh my," Magnus exclaimed. "I didn't realise you were into this type of thing."

His glittered eyebrows wiggled suggestively as he took in the scene before him. In particular, the woman Alec was tying to a chair while Isabelle held a highly-illegal looking blade to her lean throat.

Luke walked over with an odd collection of emotions casting dark shadows on his face. Sombre anger and tight control. "This woman has a certain amount of memories that she isn't permitted to have," he said straightforwardly. "They need to be gotten rid of. Immediately."

"May I be so bold as to ask why, Graymark?" Magnus asked affably as he made the electric blue chair arrive behind him.

"She has an appointment with the Clave. The Clave cannot under any circumstances know about the things she has seen."

Magnus inclined his head to the side. He sensed gossip. Delectable gossip of the juicy genre. "And if I can't get rid of these memories?"

Lucian looked at the warlock coldly. "We kill her."

A chair dragged across the floor from the table in the kitchen area until it hit the back of the Alpha's knees. Magnus gestured to the seat and Luke lowered himself stiffly into sitting position. Tension kept him rigid and his face a frightening kind of numbingly cold anger and seriousness.

"I think we both know that I need to know more about this before I can even decide if there is anything I am able to do." Magnus prompted.

Alec mumbled to himself as he knotted a thick rope around the woman. Despite being a Shadowhunter, this seemed ridiculously clichéd. Tying a female infiltrator to a sturdy chair with some strong ropes while she was gagged. Alec wasn't familiar with Hollywood productions- except for the little knowledge he had learned from Magnus- but this seemed to be somewhat overdone. Except for, maybe, the fact that a vampire was the one doing the gagging. But maybe that was part of the typical Hollywood movie, how was he to know? Although, Alec thought, there would probably be more religious crosses and strings of garlic dotted around the place if it was.

"That woman is a traitor," Luke informed Magnus. "A criminal advocating Valentine Morgenstern. She knows about Clary's… gifts. If they Clave see these memories, they will want Clary. They will want to use her. I can't have that, Magnus. I was with Jocelyn for a lot of your little meetings, I know you can erase her memories like this. It's either you, or one of us gets more blood on our hands."

Magnus reclined in his chair, looking pensive. "Why do you want to send her to the Clave in the first place?"

"Valentine is their greatest enemy," Alec answered quietly. "Anyone caught fraternising with him is a highly wanted criminal. The Clave doesn't take too kindly to criminals- especially ones of this calibre. They will want information about Valentine from her… they will get it by any means necessary."

The Shadowhunter's words gave Magnus a clear answer. Death would probably be too lenient a punishment. The Warlock gave a wry smirk. "I often remark upon how delightful your wonderful Clave is," he said dryly. "Right, well, carry on with your business and let me work. I hope you all understand how unbelievably charitable I am being here. If you knew how much this spell would cost considering the circumstances and risky consequences, it would make you salivate… or possibly faint."

As Magnus strode into one of the bedroom doors with the woman floating on her chair behind him, Luke turned his attention to Clary. His pseudo-daughter, his responsibility, his main source of worry. Her bottle-green eyes were watery, but her mouth was set in a determined line. He pulled up a chair from the table and set it down right in front of her. Simon got the unspoken message and wandered over to the Lightwoods.

"We need to talk, Clary," Luke sighed, running his hands through his hair. "I know why you did it, I know how much your mother means to you but-"

"I still want to do it," Clarissa told him stubbornly.

"What?"

"I still want to do it. I have this power for a reason, and I want to use it. I want to save Mum."

Alec, Isabelle and Simon were listening intently. Luke looked scandalised and a flash of sadness upset his worried face.

"Clary, you can't do that-"

The young girl snapped her gaze up to meet his defiantly. "Yes, I can! And I will, I can't believe I never thought of it myself. My runes can take away fear and blast through doors- it can surely wake someone up!"

Luke reached out and grabbed her wrist like a father reprimanding his child. "No you can't, Clarissa."

"Stop worrying about me, Luke! I can do this, I am not a fragile little child. I can help my mother and it's ridiculously selfish if the reason you won't let me try is because you are worried about me!"

Luke felt like shouting at her to make her see sense, but he knew she had been through a lot already so he forced himself to refrain. It tore him apart to see her like this, he wished that she could save her mother. He had considered it, and he had been worried. But he had also spoken to others- people who knew more about this kind of thing then he did- and he knew it wouldn't work.

"This isn't about me being a stupid overprotective idiot, Clary. You just can't do it. It's not because you aren't strong enough, it's because your runes won't work on you mother. Jocelyn has been put under a very powerful spell or was subjected to some extremely powerful potion of sorts- either way, this condition wasn't inflicted by runes, nor can it be solved by them. Dark, dark magic was used and any attempts to use magic to revive her would be futile and dangerous. I'm sorry, Clary, but you would just end up risking your mother's health even more."

Clarissa's face drained of any colour left in it, there wasn't much. "I've been really stupid… oh my God…"

Clary turned towards the three teenagers in the other corner. "I need a phone," she gasped.

"For Jace?" Alec guessed. Clarissa nodded rapidly. "No use. I've been ringing since Magnus got here. Jace isn't answering. And if he isn't answering me, he sure as hell won't answer you." For once, that sentence was true. This time Jace wanted nothing to do with Clary- he wouldn't be running to her this time.

It was at that very moment that the full weight of Clary's actions crashed down on her shoulders. Stupid was an understatement. Clarissa Fray had been phenomenally imprudent. Luke and Simon were one thing, in their eyes she was already almost forgiven for her lapse in judgement. Jace Wayland, on the other hand, didn't take too well to apologies- not after horrible mistreatment like this. Clary's hands shook, it would be an absolute miracle if Jace would ever look at her again. Never mind accept her apology or speak to her.

"I'm so sorry," she told the room. She meant it. But in truth, the statement was directed at someone who was so far away that he could never have heard her genuine words of regret. The words weren't enough- they were what you said when they bumped into someone in a busy supermarket, they were the words you spoke when you were two minutes late for work or when you couldn't make it to lunch with a group of friends. What could you possibly say when you betrayed someone who cared for you so completely as Jace had cared for her? "I'm sorry," didn't suffice.

What did you say when you broke someone's heart? Especially when it was so damaged and hurt already.


	23. Chapter 23

**First off- a massive thank you to everyone who reviewed!! Thank you so much!! All of you are amazing!!**

**_Okay, so I'm going to post the next chapter now but it comes with a warning- the drama group that I teach are putting on a big christmas play on friday. It's a big deal for us and I need to be at practices almost every night this week to help them get ready. Also, I have to go away all day wednesday and I have homework every evening. My Christmas exams start next friday too... Unfortunately, as you can see, this leaves little room for fanfiction... I will do my best, I really will. But if the worst comes to the worst I finish school on the 23rd. I should get a chapter or two up before then though. Sorry about this, I really am=(_**

**Thank you again to everyone reading and reviewing! Hope you enjoy this one!**

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Max had looked so eager to be with him. Just to be in Jace's presence. As though Jace himself was some kind of hero or idol. He knew he wasn't though, Jace knew that it wasn't true- and suddenly he couldn't stand in Max's bright, adoring gaze anymore. So Jace fulfilled his planned desire, and ran. Cowards ran. Cowards couldn't be heroes.

Right now, he was over the Brooklyn Bridge. Flying above the sparkling East River. Even though the bike was keeping him suspended in the air, Jace could feel his stomach drop drastically. Brooklyn Bridge, East River, Flying Demonic Motorbike. Sharp wind tearing through his hair. A ghostly recollection of a body pressed against his. Phantom hands wrapped tightly around his waist, the passenger afraid of falling. Ethereal bright red hair flicked onto his cheek in the breeze. No, not hair- just the flash of car rooftops in the dim sunlight glinting off his cheek. Like the tight grip around his belt, it wasn't real. That was the last time. The last time when he was here with her. When he looked back at her smiling face and saw her wide-open, bright eyes as she happily clung to him.

This was why he had to leave. She would never get back on that stupid bike with him, she wouldn't ever smile at him like that again. Clary would just keep on haunting him, even when she wasn't near. By the Angel, if a damn bridge could remind him of her, it had clearly gone too far. Clary had hurt him before, had tortured him now, and would continue to cruelly inflict pain on him for as long as he stayed. The pain would linger while he was gone. No, it wouldn't linger- it would stab and throb and ache and never leave him be. But it would be a little better. Jace needed a change. He needed out of this city, he needed to start over… without Clarissa Fray haunting his every thought.

A vibrating emitted from his pocket, at this stage it was a regular sensation. One that Jace was getting sick of. A sensation he hated. His ring tone was driving him crazy, and if he never heard the song ever again for as long as he lived he would die a happier man. This time, Jace pulled the phone out of his pocket, sick of leaving it ignored in his pocket.

**ALEC CALLING**

The words brightly blinked on the cracked screen. No, he couldn't do it. This would be about her. They would probably beg him to come back and instil some sense in her, or furiously give out to him for driving her further away. One shouldn't ignore his parabatai, but Jace just couldn't face up to it right now.

With one last look at the shuddering, flashing screen, Jace held the phone out from him in the open air. Staring at it as it illuminated irritatingly in his hand. It was clenched in his fingers loosely. Until he uncurled them. And the shrill ringing object slipped through his open fingers until he saw it plop with a tiny splash into the still waters of the East River.

_Sorry, old friend,_ he thought, _but I just can't deal with this today. Maybe another day, in some other place where I don't feel so broken. Hopefully._

Once again, Jace cursed his cowardice, but bravery was beginning to seem highly overrated. Why not succumb to the childishness of adolescent angst, just for a little while? No one was stopping him. No one knew where he was going. No one could reach him.

No one could stop him.

* * *

"Max?" Isabelle called hesitantly. "Now, I know you aren't very happy with me right now, but it really was very important that Alec and I went out before. And to make it up to you, Simon helped me to pick out one of those magazines you like!"

The girl knew that she was clutching at straws, but if her parents found out that she had locked her baby brother in a bedroom to go off on an illegal mission- well, she could kiss goodbye to any shopping sprees in the near future. Hell, she could kiss goodbye to any shopping until she was in her forties! The cartoon magazine was worth the effort.

"Okay, so I'm going to open your door now, Max. You can have your magazine then, and I'll even let you get some take-out from Taki's for dinner if you like." Isabelle was being very cautious, further bribes might stop her brother from lunging out of the door and trying to attack her. Or from calling their parents.

"Izzy, I'm right here," Max stated dubiously from behind her. He was munching on a packet of popcorn.

"Hey! How did you get out?"

Max shrugged. "Jace. _He_ is nice to me."

The raven-haired girl's eyes flew open and her carefully shaped eyebrows shot up on her forehead. "Jace? He was here?"

"Well, obviously! Where else would he go? Jace lives here, you know, Izzy." Max rolled his eyes and crunched another handful of salty popcorn.

"Where is he now, Max? Where is Jace?"

The young boy shrugged innocently. "I don't know- he said he was going out, but he didn't say when he would be back. He did leave you guys a letter though, maybe he said where he was going in that."

"Alec!" Isabelle yelled. "Get down here!"

Max cringed and reached out to grab his magazine. "Oh no, not so fast mister. Give me the letter and then I'll let you have this."

By the time Max had returned with the envelope, his older brother was standing at Isabelle's side. The white paper was smudged with greasy fingerprints where Max had held it. There were no words written on the front, it was just a plain, vanilla envelope.

Alec tore open the seal with a loud ripping sound, and let the shredded paper fall uselessly to the ground. Church began to sniff it warily as it landed.

_Alec, Isabelle, Max,_

_You are my family. My real family. You always have been and always will remain as such. _

_First off, I'm sorry. By the time you get this, I will be gone. _

_Clichéd? Yes.  
Cowardly? Definitely.  
Unfair? Perhaps.  
Inevitable? Certainly._

_It's all gone too far. This isn't your fault- far, far from it. In fact, this has nothing to do with you at all. But I can't stay here anymore. Don't get mad or upset- it will make your lives easier. No more worrying about me when I disappear, right? Don't look at the letter like that Isabelle- the poor paper never did anything to you. And Angel forbid that you would get wrinkles- think of your precious skin, Iz._

_Alec, you are my parabatai- without you guarding my back, I feel like my best weapon and strongest defence has been taken away. You are my brother, best friend and fighting partner- so it is only fitting that you be devastated and horribly mournful that I have left. You should campaign to have this made a national holiday. Celebrate The Wonderfulness Of Jace Wayland Day. You can even give a speech and wear a tie._

Max, there's a dagger in my room. It was my dagger, the lucky one with the gold handle. It's yours. Look after it and use it well.  
You two better look after your sister for me. I also have to offer my sincerest apologies to you- my absence will mean more of Izzy's cooking for the two of you. It wasn't intended- not too much anyway. Maybe you should buy a dog? I hear they like to eat on the sly beneath the table. Start asking Graymark over- I'm sure he would fulfil the requirement.

_Isabelle- my dear sister, what ever will I do without you to look after me, nag me and keep me somewhat in line? Make sure to keep your brothers in good shape. Let's be honest, you're going to badly need it without me. You better not get yourselves killed while I am gone. I will be highly annoyed if you do._

_I can't tell you where I am going. Mainly because I don't know. Just think of it as one less Christmas card to send. Don't try to find me. Look after yourselves. _

_J.  
_

Alec balled up the letter in his fist. It scrunched in on itself and crumpled so that the words all ran together in a tight ball. "This is her fault," he whispered.

"I'll kill her," Isabelle hissed emptily. "The heartless witch. What did she do to him, what did she do Alec?!"

The boy simply shook his head. "I don't know. I really don't know. But I know that this is her fault."

"Max, get your coat," his sister barked.

"Why? Where are we going?" the young boy asked as he gazed up at his sister with wide eyes. "Can I bring Jace's dagger? Is it really mine now? Do you think he is going to come back? I think we should try to find him. But I still want to keep his dagger. Can I still keep the dagger when we get him back? And a dog! Jace was right- I think we should get a dog. A big one with big, floppy ears. Even though Church probably wouldn't like him- but that's okay, because Church doesn't really like anyone all that much. Can I have my magazine now, Izzy?"

Isabelle sighed and thrust the comic into her brother's waiting hands. "Get your coat, Max. We have someone to see. And the only one needing a dagger will be her, because even the Angel won't be able to help her when I find out how she managed to screw up this fantastically."


	24. Chapter 24

**I know I haven't replied to your reviews yet but I thought you would prefer that I write a new chapter instead! I only got home at 9pm, it is now midnight and I have to be up at 5.30am!! So i will reply to reviews tomorrow if I can! Why do I have to be so busy?? Grrr!!!  
Thank you so so much for your reviews, I love hearing from you =]**

* * *

Luke groaned as he heard the knocking on his door. There had never been a time where he had wanted so desperately to flop onto his bed and put his head deep under his pillow. Alas, that wasn't an option. As much as he hated to admit it, life did not stop to give weary, frustrated werewolves a ten minute breather. Although, at this stage he felt like he needed ten years at least to get his head in order. A run-in with a fraudulent criminal had been bad enough. A meeting with the Clave was exhaustingly undesired, but entertaining guests would just be the obnoxious cherry on the woeful cake. He had naively thought that once Simon had trudged home and the Lightwoods had returned to the Institute, that he would have some peace.

Clary was hunched forlornly over his dining table, a steaming mug of hot chocolate stinging her red-rimmed eyes as it made swirling shapes in the air.

"I really am sorry, Luke. Really. I just… I thought I was helping. I thought… I thought a lot of stupid things."

Luke squeezed her shoulder tightly. "Shush. I know. Don't worry about it, Clary- just never ever do it again. Alright? Now sit down and have some hot chocolate," he said as the milk bubbled on the gas cooker.

Luke began spooning liberal amounts of the chocolate powder into a large white mug.

"I don't want any hot chocolate," she mumbled with a sniff.

"Of course you do, you're a teenage girl and you're upset. All teenage girls want chocolate when they get upset. It's a proven fact," he replied with proud logic.

Just as he placed the sweet drink on the table, the knocking began. Sharp raps on the door- direct and impatient. So Luke groaned, and desperately wished that whoever was on the other side of the door would just disappear. Unsurprisingly, the knocking continued.

"Hi Isabelle," He greeted, pulling open the door tiredly. "How can I-"

"Get out of my way, Alpha," the girl snarled. Both her and Alec pushed past him as their brother gazed in from the hallway. Clary raised her head despondently and didn't bother to speak. She couldn't break herself out of her plagued thoughts long enough to do so.

Before the eldest Lightwoods could say anything further, Max rushed past a very baffled and annoyed Luke and ran straight to Clary. He ignored his furious siblings with their clenched jaws and blazing eyes and cracked the miserable redhead a huge grin.

"Hey Clary! You will never guess what- Izzy bought me a new anime! It's really good! I think she must have had help picking it out though, because she doesn't even know what anime is. She called it a magazine! Do you know where Jace went, Clary? We-"

"Max," Alec hissed through his clenched teeth. "Get over here and shut up."

The young boy protested instantly. "But I-"

"Now, Max." The tone was very clearly a no-nonsense one, and Max immediately closed his mouth and slouched morosely to Alec's side.

"What did you do to him, Clary?" Isabelle demanded. "What did you say?"

Clary's forehead furrowed as she looked at them from her desolate place at the table. Luke was watching the entire exchange from the doorway- he hadn't moved since Isabelle had shoved ruthlessly him out of her way.

"What do you mean? What did I say to who?" she asked confusedly.

"Oh please! Spare me the trite and false dramatics," the raven-haired girl spat ferociously. "You know exactly who I mean. I am talking about Jace Wayland- my brother. The brother that you managed to make run away. Don't deny it, Fray, I know it was you. Now tell me what the hell you did to him?"

At that moment, Isabelle resembled a feral lioness that could instil horrific fear in any of the earth's creatures. Not excluding Clarissa Fray. Not in any way shape or form. In fact, she visibly flinched back from the harsh words and hateful stares. Her mind kicked into overdrive- finally breaking free of the circling, dull thoughts swimming around her mind. Run away? Jace? No, no- surely she hadn't hurt him that much. Yet, deep down, as the crucifying image of his tortured face flashed in her memory at full blast- she knew that she had hurt him that much. She had made him feel so awful that he had run away. Away from his family and friends. Away from her. From all that he had…

Wherever he was now, he had nothing. No family, no friends, no her. Thanks to her he was completely alone. In some far off place where he was unknown and unwanted. Clary's stomach plummeted and not for the first time that day she felt like she needed to be sick. The aroma of her cooling hot chocolate made her queasy. Chapped lips trembled under the stabbing glares of the terrifying Shadowhunters standing their ground in the middle of the floor.

What had she done… what had she done to Jace?

Her heart told her the truth: she had loved him. She had destroyed him. Quite thoroughly. Heart-wrenchingly thoroughly.

"I don't… I don't know what you are talking about. Really, I swear I don't," she said hastily. "Where did he go? I don't understand how-"

"You," Alec accused threateningly. "Are the only one that understands this, Clarissa. So tell us what you know. Now."

It was at that stage that Luke decided to intervene. "Look here, Alec. How about we all calm down, hey?" His arms were outstretched in a placating manner and his voice had returned to that normal calm tone.

"Keep quiet, Graymark, this doesn't concern you," Izzy snapped.

"Anything that concerns Clary, concerns me. May I remind you that you are in _my_ home?" A warning edge had wormed its way into his voice.

"Then we will take it outside," the livid Nephilim growled again. "Now tell me what you know, Clarissa."

Clary wrung her hands together and gazed at the table. Would this day never end? Would it ever get better? She suddenly knew how 'Madeleine' felt under Isabelle's knife, and even more so how she felt as the Clave dragged her away.

"I… I told him to…" she stuttered pathetically.

"Spit it out Clary. I know you don't care, but Jace is our family and the more time we waste talking to you the more time we lose." Alec had never liked Clary from the outset, but the girl had never seen this much hostility in his demeanour.

"I told him to leave," she admitted hollowly. "He told me he needed me… that he wanted me to come back… that he was going to save me… and I told him that I didn't need saving. I told him to leave."

Isabelle snapped. Her cold, calm fury evaporated and she let herself give in to her raging wrath. "You stupid, heartless witch! He told you he needed you- Jace Wayland told you he needed you! Doesn't that mean anything in your simple, empty head? By the Angel- you cruel, stupid brat! You didn't just hurt him, you tore out his heart and stomped on it! He showed you his deepest insecurities and you spat on them!"

"That's enough, Isabelle," Luke roared. "That is more then enough. Calm down or get out."

Clary stood up on wobbly legs. "I can help," she cried brokenly. "I'll come to the Institute and help you to find him-"

"You will do no such thing!" Isabelle shrieked.

Alec glared at her as though she were a filthy stain on the ground beneath him. "You will not step foot inside the Institute. It is our home- a place for Shadowhunters."

"I am a Shadowhunter," Clary protested distressingly.

"No." Alec said coldly. "You are not. You couldn't even pass for a poor imitation."

Isabelle grabbed Max's hand. "You are no more a Shadowhunter then Alec is a ballerina. The sad thing is- Jace spent so long looking for you. He didn't eat or sleep or stop until he found you. He treated you like family- like he should- and you treated him like dirt. Jace did everything he could to save you, and you threw it all back in his face."

Clary could feel herself withering under their harsh glares, like a dying flower in a season of frost. It chilled her numb heart and crushed any spirit she had left. The truth was unbearable and she could scarcely handle it.

"Come on Max, we're going." The Lightwoods strode out the door in a cloud of sculpted beauty and power, letting it slam behind them.

Luke quickly crossed the room and wrapped his arms around the lost looking girl. In that moment Clary looked like a little child once more, and Luke knew that no amount of hot chocolate could fix this. Not by a long shot.


	25. Chapter 25

**Thank you so so much for the reviews!! I don't have enough time to reply to you all yet... sorry :( This chapter- in my opinion- is not a very good one. However it's all I could come up with in the time i had. The delays between chapters is awful, I know and I hate it- but my tests start this week so it will be another long wait i'm afraid :(  
Thank you again- I hope this chapter isn't too awful xx

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**

"Izzy?" Max sounded out hesitantly.

His sister never stopped walking- it was a brisk, purposeful stride that made people ahead immediately swerve out of her way. Alec wasn't much different, although he was slightly less intimidating. He was more sullenly angry then blazingly furious like Isabelle.

"What?" Isabelle snapped sharply.

"Well," Max bit his lower lip and frowned. He had been mulling over his question for the past few minutes and wasn't quite sure how to ask it without getting on Isabelle's bad side. He didn't like Isabelle's bad side. No one really did- and he really didn't want to end up locked in his room again.

"Weren't you kind of… mean to Clary?" he asked hesitantly.

"No." Came the simultaneous short reply from his siblings. They wouldn't look at him, they were glaring at the street ahead. Their minds were clearly elsewhere… and elsewhere didn't seem like a very nice place.

"Oh… I thought you were. And I don't understand why. Clary's nice, you said she was too! I think she's nice…" the boy trailed off at the end in confusion.

"Clary is not nice," Isabelle growled. Alec sighed as they walked into the Institute and opened the door to the sitting room. Both he and Isabelle sat down wearily on the couch and the youngest Lightwood eased down in the chair across from them.

"Look, Max," Alec began gently. "Jace and Clary… had an argument, and because of that Jace left us."

"Maybe she didn't mean it, maybe she didn't know," Max interrupted innocently through big doe eyes.

"She did," Isabelle sneered shortly. Alec shot her a pointed look and turned back to his brother. He leant forward, closing the space between them and looked his brother straight in the eyes. Somehow Alec knew that his answer would not be well received.

"Max, do you know how Mom and Dad sometimes say that the things they are talking about are 'adult conversations that-"

"That I wouldn't understand," Max quoted with a huff and a roll of his wide eyes. This was certainly not the answer he wanted- in his opinion this was the answer that meant he wasn't going to get any answer at all. Every single time Max had a question, this was how his parents glossed over sticky situations and never gave him concrete replies.

Alec sighed again. "Well this time it's true. Clary did a lot of things to hurt Jace, and that means that she hurt us too. You might think we were too… mean… but what Clary did to Jace was worse. Do you understand?"

Max nodded slowly. "I suppose… but I still think it was mean. If Jace is really gone, are we going to find him? I think we should, Jace belongs here with us. He needs to come home- even if it means I don't get to keep his dagger. Where are we going to find Jace?"

Isabelle and Alec glanced at each other with worried expressions. "I don't know… I really, really don't know." And suddenly Isabelle sounded very small and fragile, the furious wrath evaporated completely. No more ornery dragon-like bravado.

The anger was easy to hide behind, it was so simple to succumb to it completely. Fury made words flow easily- hurtful, cruel words but words none the less. The kind of words you couldn't stop and couldn't take back. When the anger was gone, it made Isabelle face up to the truth. The cold, hard, horrid truth that she wasn't so sure she could handle.  
Jace was gone- and that made her horribly anxious and afraid. Anger and wrath were easier for Isabelle to deal with then fear and threatening tears. But if they wanted Jace back, Isabelle knew that she couldn't really be any of those things. She had to be strong, shrewd and alert. Jace could be anywhere in the world right now… and the world was an awfully big place.

Maybe she had thought Clary was nice once upon a time. But Jace had been her family for as long as she could remember- as much of a brother to her as Alec and Max were. Maybe the words she had spoken were cruel and cutting. But they couldn't be taken back… and she wasn't sure if she even wanted to take them back. Jace was her family and anyone who hurt her family was not someone Isabelle Lightwood could bring herself to be kind to. False smiles and sweet words laced with lies were not her thing. Jace had always valued the truth, and Isabelle had always tried to live by it. She wasn't going to change now.

The world was a big place and Jace was only one person. This would be much harder then trying to find a needle in the proverbial haystack. The sooner they started the better. But with such a big area to cover- how were they going to even start?

"I think we can rule out New York," Alec said quietly.

"Can we really rule out anywhere?" Isabelle asked diplomatically.

Alec looked at his sister sombrely. "No, we can't. But Jace is pretty much running away here, Izzy. And does Jace Wayland ever do anything by halves?"

The raven-haired Shadowhunter shook her head slowly. Jace was very good at disappearing when he wanted to. He wouldn't make this easy for them and he wouldn't be coming home any time soon, unless he was forced. The Lightwoods could do forceful. Isabelle was the master of forceful and Jace was going to get a good dose of forcing… as soon as they managed to find him.

"Jace might be good at disappearing, Alec, but we have to be better at finding him. He has a head start but we need to get at least one step ahead. We both saw what happened when he went off on his own to look for Clarissa."

"Jace is well able to take care of himself," Alec rebutted chastising.

Isabelle rolled her eyes dismissively. "I know that Alec, but I also now that Jace can go too far. He is a Shadowhunter through and through, and he focuses completely on the mission. Apart from us, the mission is all that matters. When Jace starts a job, he gets too involved and he doesn't think of himself. We always made him look after himself like that before, without us… You saw him after one week. If he goes after demons in that state, he will be unbelievably disadvantaged."

Alec stared at the ground beneath him grimly. Isabelle was right- a step ahead would not be enough. The world was too big and too dangerous. They needed to act fast, they were already too far behind.


	26. Chapter 26

**First off, thank you so much to everyone reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it! I stayed up late last night to write this because I know that I probably won't be able to write during the week (Sorry)  
I think this chapter is better then the last- I didn't like 25 all that much... but whatever! So- here you go! Let me know what you think =]**

* * *

"You can't blame yourself, Clary," Luke said softly. That soothing, calm manner that she was so used to. Nice voice, nice words… words of lies. Clary couldn't bring herself to believe them. To do so would be a horrible deceit to herself and a ridiculous disregard of reality.

Clary shook her head miserably. "Yes, I can. It's my fault, Luke. I should have known better- I did know better, I just chose to ignore it. As soon as I said those words, I regretted it- all I had to do was run after him, but I just let him walk away. I knew what I was doing, Luke, there is no point in denying it."

"Everyone makes mistakes, Clary. It's part of being human. We all do it, and it just makes you a bigger person if you can admit it."

"Admitting that I screwed up isn't going to fix anything," she sighed. Her hand reached out morosely to take a biscuit from the table in front of her. Luke and Clary were both curled up on the opposite ends of the couch.

Luke leant over and grabbed a cookie. When he spoke his voice was muffled by the crumbled biscuit in his partially full mouth. "Maybe it isn't up to you to fix this. The Lightwoods know what they are doing, I'm sure they can find Jace."

Clary winced slightly at the mention of his name, she still couldn't bring herself to say it. "It was my fault, Luke. I have to do something to help him."

"What if you only made it worse?" Luke said honestly as he swallowed. "Jace doesn't want to see you Clary. I'm not trying to hurt you by saying that, but we need to face up to facts here. Jace probably wouldn't see it as helping, would he?"

Red locks of hair swung around Clary's face as she shook her head negatively. "No, he wouldn't. But I feel like I could get through to him and make him understand if I could just get him to listen…"

Luke raised a sceptical eyebrow. "And just how are you going to do that?"

"I don't know… tie him to a chair and duct tape his mouth shut, I suppose."

Luke laughed genuinely until silence gently re-entered the room and filled it up gradually until all sounds faded. The low hum of the refrigerator buzzed in their ears along with the distant sound of cars beyond the closed windows.

"He could be anywhere, Luke…"

Lucian Graymark turned his gaze to the girl hunched up on the other end of his battered, old couch. "Who?" he asked.

"You know who, Luke." Clary refused to look at her pseudo-father, and instead turned to the window. The window that allowed her to see outside. The big, bad world outside the window. Huge buildings stretching to the horizon until they faded away. It only added to Clary's misery that the view from the window seemed so very huge, when in contrast to the world it was so very tiny. He could be anywhere. Anywhere but at her side.

"No I don't, who are you talking about Clary?" Luke repeated in the background.

"Him," she repeated, never tearing her empty gaze from the imperfect pane of glass.

"Say his name Clary. Say it."

The girl stood still, though her hands shook. Her tumbling, copper curls swished infinitesimally as she shook her head once more. No. She knew she couldn't say it. Couldn't dare to utter it, as though it were poison on her lips. The word would slip out and the poison would slip in. It would make her shiver and shake. It would make acridly burning tears sting her eyes caustically. Clary had faced up to it: this was her fault, he had run away and left because of her. He was gone. But to say his name would make it worse. By avoiding it, she was desensitising herself. It meant some of the pain was blocked out and some of her strength shone through. Clarissa Fray could not bring herself to say that one word. His name would be her undoing. And she had come undone quite enough for one day.

"Clary," Luke warned. "Say it. Say his name. Blocking out things like this isn't healthy, neither is blaming yourself. Stop this silly practice of bottling things up, it isn't right. Now say his name."

"I ca-"

Just then a knock sounded on the door. Luke groaned in exasperation.

"Not again!" he exclaimed, flinging his arms out at his sides as if he was hitting the air. He yanked the door open with so much force that it slipped out of his hand and hit against the wall with a resounding crash. "If this is some idiot selling Tupperware lunchboxes I will personally shove him into one!"

"My, Lucian. New York has certainly changed your temperament," a soft voice said. Clary had not turned around but she could sense a smile on the speaker's lips. "I do apologise if this is an inappropriate or unsuitable time."

"No," Luke said somewhat weakly. "No, not at all. I… I had a long day, that's all."

"You seem quite shocked, Lucian. Perhaps you should sit down?" The voice was concerned- a female tone that seemed to have lost the smile. From where Clary stared out the window in her trance, she could imagine a frown on the woman's face. It was a voice she didn't know, but she didn't care enough to pull herself away from the devastating spread of landscape in front of her.

"I… I'm fine. Truly, I'm just surprised to see you to be honest."

Clary wondered if Luke was shell-shocked. He certainly sounded as though he was. Maybe the woman behind her back was an ex-girlfriend of some sort. As far as she knew, Luke had never had a girlfriend- but not too long ago, as far as she knew fairies and demons didn't exist. As far as she knew, Luke wasn't a werewolf- she had been proved wrong on that one though. Maybe she was wrong about this one too. Clary started to find herself hoping the woman was nice. Luke deserved someone nice. Just because she couldn't be happy didn't mean Luke couldn't be happy. Maybe the woman was a werewolf like Maia, or a Shadowhunter like…… A Shadowhunter like Alec. Yes, Alec. Alec was a Shadowhunter.

The window was mesmerising. It allowed her to imagine all the places he could be. All the places she might never go. All the times she might never see him. But this wasn't about her. She had to stop. Clary had to pull herself away. This wasn't helping anyone. Least of all her, certainly not him. But suddenly, Clary felt like turning away from the window would be like turning away from him. It would be once again turning her back on him. And she couldn't do it. Not that. She couldn't do that again.

A tinkling laugh floated in from the doorway. "Well that's perfectly understandable, Lucian. Would you like me to come back some other time?"

"Oh! No! I'm so sorry, please come in! I didn't mean to leave you standing in the door like that, honestly! Come on in," Luke urged.

Clary smiled tightly from the window. She had a nice laugh. Maybe she was pretty. Luke had invited her in, that was a good sign. Beyond the window a lonely seagull let out a piercing cry of heartbreak as it soared across the empty and torn sky.

"Don't worry about it Lucian. The Bellefleurs are nothing if not patient." The tinkling laugh sounded again like a delicate wind chime in a light breeze. Clary found herself back tracking on the last words she had half-heard. Did the woman just say-

"Very true, Madeleine," Luke chuckled, shutting the door with a click. "Very true."

Clary whirled around. The window left her eyes with all the buildings and sky and birds. Clary found herself looking at the sitting-room instead of the window.

It was gone.

He was gone.

Once again that woman had made her turn her back on him. Madeleine Bellefleur had made her turn her back on Jace again. A lump rose quickly in Clary's throat like a jagged stone floating fast to the surface of a lake. With one glance at the woman's silver hair, Clarissa Fray ran out of the room and locked the door to her bedroom with panicked breaths.

Clary was coming undone. All over again.


	27. Chapter 27

**Hey guys!! Now, i know this is VERY late coming- BUT, this is actually ahead of schedual! By rights, there shouldn't have been another chapter until the 22nd or 23rd- but i decided that friday's are not meant for studying! Sorry for the delay, thank you for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy this one! Let me know what you think- I have no plan/outline for this story, I just write a chapter at a time so i draw from your comments. If you tell me that i haven't described something clear enough etc. I will develop it in the next chapter etc! =] Thank you so much to all reviewers and readers!!  
To Khadijah- I**** know you won't like this reply- but most of your questions would ruin the story if I told you the answers!!! Clary, Jace and the Lightwoods will not remain separated for the entire story from here on out though, I can tell you that! =]  
I love answering your questions and hearing your comments! Thank you =]**

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Jace sat on the periphery of the riverbank. It was soft and dry on the mossy grass as Jace stared morosely into his rippling reflection beneath his loosely swinging legs. He was scoffing at his ridiculously clichéd appearance. _Stick a piece of straw in my mouth and call me Huck Finn_, he thought wryly_. Maybe I should get a chequered handkerchief and tie it around a knobbly stick, why not become even more overly unoriginal_.

Sickened with his depressed mood, Jace hurled a small stone into the water and watched his scarred face smash into a hundred trembling circles. Bye-bye past, time to start afresh. But where to go? Out of America, that was a given. But where? Idris maybe…

No, not Idris. Idris had been home too, once upon a time. The home of all Shadowhunters all around the world- the only place they could ever truly call home. The place he was raised, his home of years past. When Jace lived with his father, the man he knew better then anyone else. The man he turned out to not know at all. He never even knew his real name. Idris meant his father, his father meant Valentine. Valentine meant Jocelyn Fairchild's husband, Jocelyn Fairchild meant Clarissa Fray. Clarissa meant love… no, Clary meant pain. Pain and destruction. Destruction of the mind, destruction of the soul. If he had one of those.

Idris was not an option.

In a fit of rage, Jace swooped down and grabbed a large, jagged stone. Angrily he launched it into the lake. Tiny beads of water splashed onto his skin and clothes like glistening beads. The cowardice was going too far. Ludicrously so. He had to stop this foolishness. But it had all happened today, maybe it would be better tomorrow. A new day, a new start. Once he woke up it would be better. If he could sleep. Jace needed sleep, he craved it desperately. How ironic: of all the scores of demons he had ruthlessly killed, he had never lost a wink of sleep over them. But one girl could make him miss a week's worth, a week that felt like a lifetime.

Jace growled at the memory. His leg lashed out to move the lever propping up his bike. But the kick was too tough, and the little arm of metal snapped and broke. Jace grabbed the handlebars before the tumbling weight crushed him. He didn't mount the bike though, he merely hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut. The rage was overpowering him- flooding him every time his depressive sadness faded. Jace Wayland wasn't in control of himself anymore, and he couldn't let himself be so pathetic anymore. It was lack of sleep. That was the problem. He needed to sleep. He would never get his head straight while he was so exhausted.

The sun was already dipping, casting violet and amber shadows on the calm surface of the lake. A large bowl of autumn colours gently flowing in the smooth film of water. A big bowl that seemed so serene and unaffected- but beneath the surface there was a maelstrom of activity. Fish, frogs and an entire world of aquatic life that couldn't be seen unless you searched deep for it. Jace used to be like that. Calm and collected, untouched and unaffected- everything hidden beneath his stony façade. Jace needed that fall-back, he needed that safety net back again.

Sleep. Jace needed sleep. Lying the bike on the ground, he dragged his rucksack with him over to a large tree. An oak tree- Quercus was the proper name, if Jace could remember correctly. Hodge used to speak about it while he tried and failed to teach Jace about the 'wondrous world of plants.'

The zip of his rucksack opened with a hiss, and Jace pulled out a jumper. Lying down beside the gnarled roots of the magnificent oak, Jace tugged it around his shoulders and wearily shut his eyes. Sleep enveloped him with open, comforting arms. An echo of a lullaby tinkling in his head and a phantom hand stroking his hair.

Darkness settled on everything beneath like a heavy blanket. A natural onyx cloak speckled with silver-stitched stars and a large, white badge of metal that cast dim light on the water below. In the distance, owls hooted and stealthy foxes gave sharp barks. And the boy beneath the oak tree slept on obliviously. His forehead was scrunched up as he moved about restlessly. Trapped in the creations of his own mind. Dreams, perhaps. Suddenly a scream pierced the air, a rough roar- guttural and coarse. Jace leapt up, flinging his body up off the ground. His forehead was coated in a light sheen of sweat and his breath came in short bursts. Nightmares. Horrible demons that disrupted his sleep. Ones he couldn't kill, ones that were only concerned with haunting him.

"_Jace, I don't need saving. Not from anyone but you. It's not like you could save me anyway, if I had been in any real trouble I would probably have been killed by the time you got to me. You weren't exactly the fastest saviour now, were you?" _

Clary's face had flashed across his inner mind, screwed up into a very un-Clary-like expression. Cruel and taunting. Mocking him, laughing at him.

"_You're a mess, Jace. You can't even take care of yourself. I'm surprised you haven't been reduced to tears yet- you've tried everything else. Running away like a child, throwing tantrums like an impetuous baby- is crying the next step, brother dearest?"_

Her emerald eyes glinted- but not with the usual humour and lively spark, with cruel teasingly. She resembled one of Lilith's children- fiercely evil and proud of it. Threatening and knowledgeable of the pain she inflicted. Even though she wasn't real. A figment of his own twisted mind, imaginary. Clary was gone, he had to get over it. He had left- left her behind.

"_Daddy would be proud, wouldn't he? The little boy he corrupted, and made his own killing machine- reduced to salty tears. Oh, but Valentine would be so proud! So much for being his son, Jace. It's a good thing he doesn't love you- this would shame him so much."_

Valentine Morgenstern's face spun around Jace's head. Michael Wayland. The brief moments of fatherly love- so impossibly short and irregular that Jace had often questioned if they had existed at all. Then the cruel, calculating look in his dark eyes as he pushed up Jace against a wall and hit his cheek, sending a reverberating shake through his body- training. Making him strong. Making him a true Shadowhunter of the highest calibre.

"_Come with me, Jonathon. You are what I made you, and I made you a copy of myself. Or at least I tried, son. How I have failed. Though you have some of my qualities still- deserting your family. If only it weren't for such cowardly purposes…"_

"_Jace, you're falling apart." _Clary said frankly. _"It really is quite amusing, to be honest. I wonder if poor Max knows how pathetic his hero is- the hypocritical show of courage, the embodiment of cowardice that he idolises. Poor Isabelle will be crying, and Alec will mourn his parabatai… and I, Jace, will thank the heavens that I am finally free of you. I will laugh at your pain. Don't forget me, sweetheart."_

With those words, Jace awoke in a fever of pants and perspiration. Each word was poison- and so unlike Clarissa Fray. She had never used silly terms of endearment like that. He had never heard her use such horrible words either, but wondered if he would eventually hear such venom if he had lingered.

They were gone, he told himself. Her sister and father were gone. Figures of his past. The future started at dawn. Strong Jace was coming back- nightmares didn't bother him, no matter how real they were and no matter how many times he had to live through them. His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed slightly- Strong Jace was coming back and moving forward. He could get through this. Forget dawn, forget tomorrow, he was starting right now. It was new start.


	28. Chapter 28

**Tah Dah!!! Directly on time =] Thank you so much to all reviewers!! Hope you are enjoying it, make sure to tell me what you think =]  
To Khadijah- You most certainly were NOT spoiling the story, I love to see people taking an interest and asking questions! I only wish that I could answer them all without giving away too much! To answer your last review- don't worry, your questions will definitely feature in the story in the future and that's the exact reason as to why I can't answer! Lol! Thank you for reviewing and reading guys =]**

* * *

"Clary," Luke called. "Clary, please come out."

The teenage girl squeezed her eyes shut from where she stood with her back against the bedroom door. "No," she said shakily. "Not until she's gone."

"Don't worry, Lucian. I'll just go, I'm sorry for…" The woman's voice drifted off at the end, unsure of what she was apologising for. If Clary didn't have such reason to hate her, she would have thought that Madeleine sounded quite nice. Soft spoken, genuine and kind… but Clarissa dispelled those thoughts immediately- wasn't it those exact qualities that had dragged her in to her false trust and devotion in the first place? If she let Madeleine back in now, what would happen this time? Perhaps Luke would end up deserting her, or maybe she would end up chasing Simon away never to return too. No, Clary was not leaving her room until that woman was out of the house- or city, if she was lucky.

"No, no!" Luke blurted out quickly. "Please stay, Madeleine. I'll explain, it isn't you… just… hold on." Luke seemed to be finding it exceedingly difficult to work coherence into his sentences. Clary could almost imagine him running frustrated hands through his dishevelled hair. Beyond the door she could hear shuffling and the familiar creak of the wearied couch as somebody sat down on it.

"Clary," Luke begged again. "This isn't who you think it is. This is Madeleine Bellefleur- the real one. She has been my friend for years, Clary please- she doesn't mean you any harm. Honestly. Clary, please, open up. For me."

She knew it was true. The woman outside the door may have been wearing a long, black cloak; she may have had long, silvery hair and she may have had the name Madeleine Bellefleur… but she wasn't the Madeleine Clary had known for the past week. That was Impostor Madeleine. Clary had no reason to fear this woman, no reason to hate her. But she did. Because it was the same name, the same face, the same heartbreaking and stark reminder of what she had done. Of how stupid she had been and how easily she had been fooled. Of how very simple it was for her to screw up so spectacularly. So why should she come out of this room to see that face again? Couldn't she just hold off on doing anything proactive until the woman had left?

"Luke… I'm sorry, I just really don't want to…" Ugh, she sounded so _weak_. Valentine Morgenstern would actually be glad that Clarissa refused to acknowledge him as her father- weakness like this was not a trait of his megalomaniac ways.

"Clary, please…"

His tone was so full of begging and pleading that she felt terrible. It was Luke. Luke who had had forgiven her biggest mistake without her even saying the words 'I'm sorry.' Was it fair to leave him out there alone? With an old friend that she was embarrassing him in front of. Maybe if she just didn't look at Madeleine's face…

The red-haired girl hesitantly eased open the door with her eyes cast to the floor.

"Oh!" gasped Madeleine. "By the Angel- you… Jocelyn's daughter! I should have known when I saw that wonderfully red hair." There was a lilt to her voice that Clary hadn't recognised before- something foreign and sweet that she couldn't place. It lingered on the ends of her words with a faint echo.

Clary still didn't look up. It was an awkward silence which only Luke was capable of breaking.

"Ehhh, perhaps I should explain, Madeleine. We have had a somewhat eventful day… or week, and I would be lying if I said you weren't inadvertently involved," he admitted, sitting at her side on the couch. Clary sat hunched over on a chair on the other side of the room.

"Oh? I hope I haven't done anything to-"

Luke looked aghast. "No, no, no! I'll explain, do you want something to drink?"

"Just tea would be fine, Lucian. Or water, whatever you have at hand," she said softly in that gentle voice that sounded like it had never uttered a scream in its lifetime.

"I'll do it," Clary offered quietly, moving towards the kitchen area. She could hear Luke explaining everything that happened over the last few days to this stranger. She blocked it out, it hurt too much to hear. The sound of the boiling, bubbling and steaming kettle provided a nice distraction and Clary let it flood her senses completely. She winced every time a word managed to break through to the surface- words like names. His name.

Then the bubbling reached a climax and the constant crescendo faded. They were still talking. She didn't want to hear her stupidity or pain acknowledged out loud.

"No, we managed to find Jace in a…"

Clary hastily tipped the water into the sink, causing flecks of scalding water to burn her hands and cheeks. The cold water flushed rapidly as she wrenched the tap on at full blast. There it was- noise once more blocking out Luke's voice and Madeleine's rapt reactions. Then the kettle was filled again- the noise of water splashing on plastic. Click. The kettle was on again, bubbling away. Noise, glorious noise. The noise of brimming bubbles.

_Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble…_

There had been plenty of trouble, a lifetimes worth. Clary couldn't help but wonder if _he_ was in trouble wherever he was right now. Not that he couldn't take care of himself- he was excellent at independence- but he was alone. Alone and lonely. No one to help, no one to care and no one to love him. Alone, alone, and lonely. Like her- even though she was surrounded by people.

"Clarissa, I am so sorry to hear that," the soft voice interrupted over the buzz of the kettle. Clary turned to catch the full force of her grey eyes. Grey and soft, kind and caring. Different to the steely strength of before. It was not her. It was not the Madeleine she had come to know. This was the real Madeleine. Maybe she could be trusted, maybe she couldn't. yet, didn't she at least deserve a chance? A very wary type of chance perhaps, but a chance nonetheless. Luke trusted her, and Clary trusted Luke- that had to count for something.

"It's okay," Clary murmured. "It wasn't really you. Just someone that looked like you."

"But, Clarissa, how hard it must be for you to look at me! I know you understand that I had no business in the recent events- but I wish to assure you, I would never do anything that despicable. How someone could use magic to… to impersonate someone just for the plain purpose of exploiting and taking advantage of someone's deepest wishes! It is truly awful, I-"

"It's okay," Clary repeated. "I know it wasn't you. I just, got shocked when I saw you, I suppose."

The woman gave a gentle smile. Her cheeks were rosier then Impostor Madeleine's, and her lips. There was no jagged scar on her cheek- just the light flecks from a life of Shadowhunting, much like her mother's. She seemed horrified that anyone would hurt Clary in this manner. Clary now realised that Impostor Madeleine had not really been all that nice at all. Those nasty little smirks that had happened so quick, Clary doubted they existed; the preoccupation or obsession with her rune talents… she had been a good liar, weaving webs of untruths designed to trick Clary into affiliating with her, but had she really been that nice? No, not really. Any kindness she had shown was a lie anyway.

"And no wonder!" Madeleine exclaimed. "How are you feeling? You poor thing- you must be so exhausted."

"I'm… okay…" Clary sounded out unconvincingly. "So, you knew my mum?"

Madeleine gave a wide smile showing straight and pearly teeth, the crow's-feet around her eyes crinkled up even more. "Oh yes. We were very close, weren't we Lucian?"

Luke nodded his head with a small smile at them both. Clary handed out the cups of tea silently and settled down in her chair once more.

"I can't believe she is… like that. Lying in that dreadful hospital." The woman shook her head with a brief tut.

Clary's question was dancing on the tip of her tongue, it was necessary but she wasn't sure if she should ask. Would it break her heart to hear the inevitable answer? Would she ever forgive herself for the regret if she didn't ask? A possible yes to the first, a definite no to the second.

"Can you help her?" Clary asked, looking once more at the floor.

Resounding silence shattered the room. A horrible sound laden with regret and sadness.

"I'm sorry, Clarissa… I really am."

Clary knew it was true- the evidence was there in Madeleine's voice. A tang of regret and a resigned sense of uselessness.

"I didn't expect much more," Clary mumbled.

"But," Madeleine interjected. "Once I return home, I will do my best. We have doctors and botanists, physicists and herbologists. They must have some knowledge to aid us, I will return home with haste- but I will stay in touch, I promise you."

Clary listened to the sounds of Luke and Madeleine sipping their tea, and felt the need to interrupt again. "Why… I don't mean to sound rude… but why did you come here?"

Madeleine glanced at her once more with a miniscule smile. "Honestly? For a short vacation. I needed to travel to a nearby Institute with a message, I took the liberty of stopping by on old friends while I had the chance. I called on your home first, when I found no one there- I rang Lucian. He told me where Jocelyn was and I rushed to the hospital. I did not expect to find her in her current state. I am afraid, I will return home immediately, I do not feel I can stay."

Clary picked up the empty mugs. "You should at least stay for a while and catch up with Luke- I mean, Lucian," she said. "I want to go out for a while anyway."

It was a lie, Clary wanted nothing more then to sleep- preferably for quite a long time. Her mind reasoned that if she had not seen Simon for what could be a decade, she would want to at least talk to him for a while. So clearly, the fair thing would be to give Luke and Madeleine some time to catch up.

"Are you sure?" Luke asked, seeing instantly through her selfless act. She nodded in response.

"Clarissa," Madeleine called, in her lilt before Clary opened the door. "If you like, I will look out for your friend whilst I am on my journey?"

Clary paused at the kitchen table, frozen mid-step. Her hands found their way to the vanilla page by her stone cold hot-chocolate. The pencils on the sheet rolled off easily- the golden pen, the silvery lead, the bright blue and butterscotch yellow beside the rolling emerald green and the onyx pencil. Clary picked it up and turned to face Madeleine with strength in her eyes She could try to be courageous, she could be a Shadowhunter, she could face Madeleine… she could surely say one little name.

"Thank you," she said pressing the page into Madeleine's soft hands.

"His name is Jace."

Luke smiled as she shut the door behind her. Oh the power of a name, and the sweet release of pent up emotion through one simple word.

Jace.


	29. Chapter 29

**Thank you guys so much- I hope you all have a wonderful christmas, your reviews have been the best presents I've got all year! (I do not own in any way Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Clare or the song Broken Strings by James Morrison and Nelly Furtado.!) Enjoy the holidays xxxx**

* * *

Clary walked out of the apartment feeling stronger and empowered. It was her first step- she had said his name, soon she would be on her way to finding him. All she had to do was get to him- to speak to him and try to explain. But where on earth could she start? The earth was so very, very big. She hadn't even realised how gigantic it truly was until Jace had ventured into it alone, leaving her behind. She was pretty sure he wouldn't be in this state at this stage… heck, he might not even be in this country anymore.

With a sigh, Clary pulled her iPod out of her jacket pocket and unwound the earphones. Music- she needed to drown out the thoughts in her head for a second, just so that she could get them all in order. The young Nephilim still didn't know where she was going, her feet seemed to carry her through the streets without destination or contemplation.

Step, step, step. Brush against someone's arm, move out of someone's way. Step, step, step. Clary switched on her iPod and hit shuffle and embraced the content that came with the music flooding her ears. There was a certain peace of mind that came with music- maybe that was why Jace enjoyed playing the piano. He always seemed relaxed when he sat at the grand piano in the music room. Bare foot and mussed-up hair, his fingers always seemed so sure and confident- completely self-assured, somewhat like Jace himself.

Clary watched the sky darken as evening closed in. Most people on the street were returning home, and rightly so. Yet Clary wanted to give Luke and Madeleine more time alone, and she wanted to sort out her mind. A deserted playground on her left caught her eye, and Clarissa wandered in. She lowered herself onto the swing and gently began to use her legs to push herself. A soft voice began singing in her earphones.

__

Let me hold you  
For the last time  
It's the last chance to feel again

James Morrison's voice echoed in her head. Clary felt the cool breeze blow back her hair and flutter the eyelashes around her closed eyes. If her imagination was allowed to dream for long enough, she could let herself think Jace would actually want to hold her again. If he did, she might be able to feel something other then regret again. But he had been right: how quickly she had dismissed their love.

__

But you broke me  
Now I can't feel anything

Jace was right in thinking that too. She had broken him and broken his heart- all he could feel for her was anger… and pain. Why was it that she had to hurt him and break him- it didn't help her. It just made them both miserable. Separated, sad and alone.

__

Oh it tears me up  
I try to hold on, but it hurts too much  
I try to forgive, but it's not enough to make it all okay

Nope, Jace couldn't forgive her for this. He couldn't hold onto his life while Clary was in it either. He was gone. Far, far away. She had hurt him too much. Clary kicked the dusty ground harder and felt herself soar through the air. She would find him. Even if she had to do it completely alone, Clary would find him.

__

You can't play on broken strings  
You can't feel anything that your heart don't want to feel  
I can't tell you something that ain't real

Oh the truth hurts  
And lies worse

Jace told the truth. It hurt- they both knew that, and lies hurt even more. He couldn't cope with lies, he wouldn't accept them and shouldn't be expected to. Clary couldn't tell him any more, and she couldn't deny the way she felt after all of this. Love, as the Seelie Queen had proclaimed, made you a liar. Clary needed to own up, to let herself feel what she knew was real, and let herself tell Jace the truth. Time to grow up and man up. She had taken the first step, there were innumerable ones left and it was vital that she take them all. Each step led her closer to Jace- to the resolution.

"Hey."

Clary's feet skidded on the ground as she abruptly smashed them down mid-swing. The voice startled her and forced her eyes open. She ripped her earphones out, letting them dangle around her neck. A head of black hair streaked with green and blue coloured her vision. Feline eyes and a shiny, red bomber jacket.

"Hi Magnus," she said with a small smile. "How are you?"

"Probably better then you after today." He leant against the side of the swing set with one arm. "Reliving your childhood memories, Clarissa?"

She grinned and let the swing carry her backwards again. "No, just thinking. I thought a playground would be safer then Central Park."

"Ah, yes," the High Warlock said with a smirk. "It can be quite dangerous with all those muggers around, I suppose."

"Actually, I was referring to the Fairies- but whatever gives you goosebumps, Magnus."

The Warlock smiled his wry grin of white teeth. The darkness had truly descended and Clary's iPod played on- a soft buzz that was barely detectable. The sound of cars still filled the night-time air as the pair continued to talk.

"Does the Alpha know where you are?" he asked.

"Yeah, he has a visitor so I excused myself."

"How noble," Magnus commented. "How are you holding up after today?"

"Not too bad," she answered truthfully. "Thank you for taking care of… her… for us, and bringing her to the Clave."

"You are most welcome, my dear. Feel free to buy me a Hawaiian island for Christmas, or at the very least a nice boy-band wrapped in ribbons."

Clary gave a wry smirk. "We owe you that much, huh?" Magnus nodded in mock sincerity. "Why are you here anyway?"

"Business, my dear girl. The apartment across the street had some problems with a troublesome enchanted bathtub… So I hear the Supreme Shadowhunter himself has run away."

"Yup," Clary answered glumly. "I'm going to find him though."

Magnus gave a dry laugh, though his face seemed to believe her. "Well, good luck with that."

"Thanks," she called as he turned his back on her and began to walk away.

"You should start heading home, Fray. Wouldn't want those Fairies to attack now, would we? Look after yourself, this is complicated business- to say the least."

With that final piece of advice, Magnus was gone. He made her smile and the corners of Clary's lips turned upwards. It was all going to be okay, she knew it. The world was a big place, but she would find him. She had the will and she would find the way. She would get there and convince him. They would be able to feel again- feel something other then pain.

_Let me hold you for the last time  
It's the last chance to feel again_

_

* * *

_

It was a large building- an old, Gothic style church with magnificently pointed arcs around the windows. The windows themselves were of stained glass- slightly dull from many years of bright sun shining through, although somehow this added to the effect. The dusty darkness made the lights shining inside appear like a beacon calling the boy home. It wasn't home, but it would do for now. He knew that the concept of home was somewhat overrated anyway. He just needed a roof over his head, and a bed to lie on if he was lucky.

There was a thick door of a light coloured wood, adorned with a black metal door-knocker. The tall teenager rapped it up and down three times. Three times lucky. He seemed exhausted as he waited for an answer in the darkness. It was clear that he had been travelling for some time over a long distance. The door creaked open to the sound of bolts being pulled across.

"Bonjour?" Came the voice from inside. **(Hello?)**

"Bonjour," the boy greeted in an almost-flawless accent. "Comment allez vous?" **(Hello. How are you?) **

"Bien, bien. Et vous? Vous avez besoin de quelquechose?" The deep, native voice asked. **(Good, and you? Do you need something?)**

"Oui, j'ai besoin de rester ici. Je suis un ami. Un ami qui travaille pour l'Ange." The young man said as he waited patiently outside the door. **(Yes, I need to stay here. I am a friend. A friend who works for the Angel.)**

The door opened fully to reveal an ageing man with a white and grey beard wearing a small pair of rectangular glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Bienvenue," he said with a warm smile. "Entrez, s'il vous plait." **(Welcome. Come in, please.)**

The boy gave a wide and wearied smile. "Avec plaisir," he said walking in the door and relishing the feeling of the warm air greeting his cheeks as he did so. **(With pleasure.)**

"Comment-vous appellez vous, mon ami?" The man took the youngster's jacket and his rucksack, leading him further into the old church. **(What is your name, my friend?)**

The sound of foreign television met the teenager's ears, and the smell of food greeted his nose and empty stomach. He had travelled a long way to experience this but it seemed like it was paying off. His new start had begun, and so far it seemed to be going pretty damn well.

He grinned as the elderly Shadowhunter with the snow coloured hair passed a steaming mug of tea into his hands and gestured to a comfortable looking chair. Ah yes, fresh starts seemed to be pretty good so far.

"Jace," the boy answered. "Jace."


	30. Chapter 30

**Hello, hello! Merry Christmas once again, I hope you all had/have a wonderful day! Some more Jace here, settling-in in La Belle France! Thank you so much for reviewing and reading! (I seriously cannot believe we are on chapter 30!! I didn't even know if I was going to get to Chapter 10!! =P ) Well, here we go! x**

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Jace reclined happily in a soft armchair. The fire blazed a wonderful amber in front of him, warming his cold hands and rosy cheeks. He could feel it starting to melt his frozen heart- this place was new, warm and far from New York. He was revelling in it.

"You," the elderly Shadowhunter with the snowy hair began in highly accented English. "Are not Francais."

Jace smiled wryly. "No, I am not French. But I speak reasonably well if you rather the vernacular."

The man sat down on the chair at Jace's side and grasped his mug between his hands. "For now, I am thinking I will try my English, I am a little out of practice."

"You seem to do be doing quite well, Mr…?"

"Ah! My apologies, I am Jacques. Jacques Christophe Fournier. And you- you are… Jace?"

The teenage Nephilim stared at the flickering flames. "Yes. I'm Jace- just Jace. I take it you are in charge of this Institute?"

"Yes, I am the… _patron_?"

Jace nodded, internally grinning. "Boss. You're the boss."

The old Shadowhunter gave an actual wide grin kindly. "Yes, though I am not treated as the boss! They think I am too like to their grandfathers, I am thinking." He laughed. "Why, may I be so bold to ask, are you here Jace?"

Jacques said his visitor's name in his strong accent, giving it a new sound. It made Jace bite back a smile- it made him imagine that he had a new name, that he was a new person. What a refreshing thought, such a wonderful idea. A notion to be embraced to the full, and embrace it he would.

"I needed a change, Jacques. I won't be with you long, I just need somewhere to sleep for a night or two. The usual Shadowhunter stop-over."

"Where are you going to be going?" Jacques asked, stumbling slightly over his words in an unsure manner. He spoke fluidly but it seemed like it had been a while since he had held a full conversation in English.

"Forward," Jace admitted with a shrug. "Somewhere new."

Just then a young boy of roughly twelve wandered in trying to spin a sheathed stiletto. He failed dismally and the knife clattered to the ground as it slipped out of his grip. The boy blushed- the rosy hue of his cheeks highlighting his brown hair and tanned skin.

"Not like that," Jace offered. Setting down his mug, Jace gingerly stood up and swept the stiletto off the floor in one smooth movement. No sooner was it in his hand then it was spinning through the air in an elaborate combination of twirls and quick-handed tricks. The youngster's eyes went wide as he watched Jace's display, and his jaw dropped. Jace flicked the blade through the air and tossed it behind his back once more before handing it professionally to the boy. He could not move or speak and stayed still as he stared at the knife-handle pointing towards him.

"Nice work. That was very impressive," Jacques commented with a small applaud. Jace nodded his thanks noncommittally. It was clear that he was used to such praise.

"You are a Shadowhunter?" The youngster managed to stutter.

Jace laughed. "I'm the best, kid."

Without waiting for a reply, Jace lowered himself down in the chair again and returned his attention to the fireplace. An Institute was a place of sanctuary- Idris was a Shadowhunter's true home, but any Institute anywhere in the world was intended to serve as a substitute. A home away from home. A Shadowhunter was expected to make themselves completely at home, and Jace had no qualms about doing just that. This was just a stop on his journey- a trucker's pit stop, somewhere to sleep.

"Could you teach me?" The boy asked hopefully.

Jace quirked an eyebrow in his direction before turning his back on him again. "The trick with the blade?"

The boy ran to the side of Jace's chair, he reminded the teenager of an excitable puppy. A Labrador that would most likely keep following him around until he learnt some shiny sleights of hand. "Anything," he replied enthusiastically.

"Mathieu, perhaps we should let our guest relax for a while. I am thinking he has had a long voyage," Jacques interrupted. He probably realised that Jace wasn't always the most sociable of people. It was a trait he seemed to exude, even at times like this when he was trying to mask it.

"Where you from, kid?" Jace asked.

"Canada," Mathieu answered.

"He has better English then I have," Jacques chuckled. "But I think I remain ahead of him where French is concerned."

Jace let his eyes wander around the room. Candles were decoratively placed on the shelves and tables, painted canvases adorned the cream walls- it was much more stylish then the Lightwoods had kept things.

"Why can't you do those kind of tricks?" Jace asked, taking another mouthful of his drink. "Surely it's not that hard. You're a Shadowhunter, fighting is in our blood- not only that but I know you have to have been taught."

It was Jacques who answered. "Mathieu has some of the basics but he finds the combat to be difficult. I fear I am getting to old to help him to… _ameliorer?"_

"Improve," Jace supplied.

"Yes, thank you. Unfortunately he is disadvantaged because of me… I cannot help him enough to improve himself."

"It is not your fault, Jacques!" Mathieu interrupted. He turned to face the elderly man so quickly that a stray lock of brown hair swung into his eyes. He clearly cared about his _patron _and wanted no ambiguity about that fact. Jace analysed the younger boy with scrutiny. Quite tall- five foot five or six, he looked pretty strong especially in his upper arms.

"Tomorrow," Jace said shortly.

"Sorry?"

"If you are ready at dawn," Jace said pointedly to Mathieu. "I will take you for a training session. If you grasp the basics I will teach you the tricks."

"Merci," he gushed. "Thank you, Sir!"

Jace shook his head and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "It's Jace, kid. Just Jace."

"Can I get you some food, or drink?" he offered eagerly.

"No thank you, Sparky," Jace chuckled tiredly. "Lead the way to a bedroom, please."

Jace turned to Jacques, thanking him politely for his hospitality before walking up the wooden stairs behind Mathieu. It was a small staircase in the very corner of the room, candelabras with thin white sticks of wax lined the ascent and every so often a painted portrait or country landscape would crop up in a gilded frame. Everything about the building screamed old art and dignified fashion, the cream walls with the wooden décor and candlelight shouted warmth and welcoming.

Mathieu led the older Nephilim down the hallway to the fourth door on the right, the ajar door showed a large room filled with beds- each with a small locker and tiny bathroom unit in the form of porcelain sinks beside it. The usual, generic Institute dormitory. Nothing less nor more then expected.

"Voila," Mathieu exclaimed with a flourish of his hand. He was watching Jace almost nervously, as though waiting for a sign of approval. Poor kid, he hadn't much going for him if he was already idolising Jace after a glimpse at one simple knife trick. Jace shook his head infinitesimally, the boy wouldn't have even registered the tiny move.

"Go to bed, kid." Jace said, placing one hand on the doorknob and gripping the strap of the rucksack resting on his back. "You'll need your rest for the morning. I'll see you outside this door at dawn. I demand punctuality. Bien entendu? Est-ce que tu comprends?"

"Yes, I understand. Thank you very, very much!" Mathieu was nodding excitedly and practically jumping up and down with happiness. His mop of brown hair was quivering and flopping about on his head. "I will see you in the morning. At the break of dawn, I promise!"

Jace smirked as the boy practically skipped down the warmly lit corridor. The candles cast his dusty grey shadow across the cream wall. Might as well help the kid while he was here, Jace thought, it wasn't like he would be here for long anyway.


	31. Chapter 31

**A bit longer then usual! Thank you very much to everyone reviewing! Hope you enjoy this, and I hope you all had a great Christmas =]**

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Clary pushed open the door gently to find Luke slumped on the couch in front of the television. She shrugged off her jacket and hung it on the peg attached to the wall. The paint around it was peeling slightly, maybe they should redecorate- a blind man could tell that the old apartment needed it. The first thing Clary noticed was that he was alone. There were two cups left upside down to dry beside the sink and the biscuit tin was back beside the toaster. Madeleine hadn't just left, she had been gone long enough for Luke to clean up. Unless she had helped to clean up and was staying the night… that would hardly happen though, would it?

"She's gone then?" Clary asked, hoping that the answer was yes. She didn't want to embarrass herself any further in front of the poor woman. At the very least, Madeleine probably thought she was schizophrenic- locking herself in bedrooms, then playing the welcoming host while ignoring her only guest. Who could blame the woman for thinking she was crazy, it was clearly the most logical conclusion.

Luke's head snapped up and he whirled around in the couch. He hadn't heard Clary come in over the sound of an exuberant yoghurt commercial, and the sound of her voice had startled him so much he almost fell off the couch. Regaining his balance, Luke grabbed the side of the couch and pushed his glasses back onto his nose before answering.

"Yeah, Madeleine left about half an hour ago."

"I thought she might stay the night," Clary commented, rummaging in the cupboards for something to eat. Best to clarify this now, in case she went out half an hour ago to buy pyjamas and was coming back.

"No, once she saw Jocelyn she made up her mind to leave. After she caught up with me she went straight home. Well, not home since it would take too long, but she started her trip home. It was nice to see her again."

"She seemed nice… I hope I didn't make her feel awkward," Clary said as she offered Luke some raisins.

"No thank you," he replied, turning up his nose at the little red box of shrivelled snacks. "Of course you didn't make her feel uncomfortable! In fact, she kept saying that she thought you were a nice girl and she wanted to get to know you better. Where did you go for the last few hours?"

"Nowhere really. Just… around."

Luke raised an eyebrow, as if asking for a more in-depth reply. Clarissa refrained, and instead lunged across Luke's legs for the remote. It was a smart move- she knew it would distract him. Instantly, he forgot about his previous question.

"Hey! I was watching something!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, something stupid," Clary snorted, flicking the channel quickly.

Luke didn't argue further, he merely reclined in the seat and grinned silently. As long as Clary was becoming decidedly more Clary-like, he would suffer any kind of woeful television. He would endure it with a smile. More then anything, Luke wanted to see Clary happy again. He wanted to see her smile without pain in her eyes. The Alpha just wanted this entire mess to be sorted out and hastily forgotten. He didn't even care about her brother anymore, Clary was safe here with him and that was all that mattered. If he could get Clary back to her usual self without Jace, then all the better. He was a liability. Deep down, Jace was a good kid and he had a good heart. He was an outstanding Shadowhunter and he had cut-throat morals… but he wasn't the greatest when it came to social skills. He pushed people away and he pushed them to the edge. He saw the world in black and white and he could cause his Clary pain. He already had. Luke was there to ensure that Clary was safe and protected from all harm and pain. She might think getting Jace back was necessary, and Luke wouldn't stop her from trying… but he wouldn't go out of his way to help her either.

Luke couldn't really stop Clary from trying to find her brother. Yet, he had a strong allegiance to Jocelyn too… and Jace was her son. By rights, Luke needed make sure Jace was safe too. But he could do that without having Jace nearby, he could do that without Clary ever having to see him again. Luke could make everyone happy, especially Clary. It was his job as her father… he was the closest thing she had to one. Now that Clary's mother was absent too, Luke had an even bigger role to fill.

"Do you want something to eat, Luke?"

"Not really, no. Madeleine and I had sandwiches earlier. Thanks, though," he answered truthfully, grabbing the abandoned remote and re-selecting his channel.

He waited until Clary had walked back to the cupboards before speaking again. "I had a phone call just after Madeleine left," he began.

"Oh yeah?" Clary murmured noncommittally.

"Hmm, it was Max."

"Max?" she echoed in surprise. "Max Lightwood?"

"The one and only," Luke replied, watching her freeze for a split second with her hand half-way to the top shelf in the cupboard over the fridge.

Clary kept her back to him, biting her lower lip as she pretended to keep looking in the cupboard. "What did he want?"

"To apologise, actually."

Luke was keeping his voice free of emotion. He felt he should tell Clary as it would put her mind at rest as far as the Lightwoods were concerned, but he didn't want to dredge up any more unwanted feelings for her. He was choosing his words very carefully.

The call had come at a time when Luke knew the boy should have been in bed. He guessed that Max's siblings hadn't wanted him to get in touch at all.

"_Hello?" _came the whispered voice when Luke picked up his phone.

"_Yes? Who is this."_

"_Is this Luke_?"

"_Yes, this is Luke. Who is this?" _Luke asked again in confusion. The voice sounded reasonably young and he couldn't understand why the person was whispering.

"_Max. It's Max Lightwood, I was at your house today."_

"_Hello, Max. Are you alright?" _Luke quizzed. _"Is there something wrong?"_

"_No… I'm okay. Is Clary there?" _he asked in the same hushed whisper.

"_Clary?"_

"_Yeah- Clary. The girl with the red hair, she taught me how to read anime and she is really nice and she made Jace go away and I think my brother and sister were kind of mean to her so I stole your number off Alec's phone because I want to talk to her if that's okay with you. Is she there? Can you give her the phone? Or maybe she has another number, does she have another number? Can I have it?"_

Luke's eyes widened as he listened to Max's onslaught of questions. Wow, that boy could talk. He couldn't ever remember Clary being this chatty when she was younger- sure she had asked questions and lots of them, but not this many.

"_Umm… No, Max, Clary isn't here and she doesn't have her phone with her… Can I give her a message for you?" _Luke offered once he regained the ability to speak.

"_I wanted to say sorry…"_

"_What do you mean, Max? You haven't done anything wrong."_

There was a sound of static on the line, and Luke waited patiently for the boy to speak.

"_I know, but Clary was nice to me and I think she feels sad… so I think I should tell her that it wasn't her fault and that Alec and Isabelle are sorry too."_

"_Are they sorry?" _Luke asked. He highly doubted that they were.

"…_No…"_

"_Have you heard from Jace, Max? Do you know where he is?"_

"_No," _Max answered sadly. _"We're going to find him, though. Even if it means I can't keep his dagger. And we might get a dog, too. Do you want to start coming to dinner?"_

Luke furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at Max's sudden question. He sounded very innocent and eager. _"Why do you ask, Max?"_

"_Jace said in his letter that he was sorry because now that he is gone me and Alec will have to eat more of Izzy's dinners, so Jace said we should get a dog or start asking you to dinner… do you actually like Isabelle's cooking?!"_

Luke chuckled at the shocked tone of the youngster's voice. Trust Jace to be rude and sarcastic even through a letter. _"I don't think I've ever tried it. Max, I should let you go before your brother and sister find you on the phone. I'll tell Clary what you said, I'm sure she'll be very happy to hear it. She thinks you're cool too, you know."_

"_Really?"_

"_Oh yes," _Luke said. _"Thank you very much for calling, Max. I hope you get your dog."_

"To apologise?" Clary said in an astonished tone. "But he didn't do anything that he needed to apologise for!"

"I told him that," Luke replied. "He told me that you were very nice and that he thought his brother and sister were rude and mean- he wanted to apologise on their behalf."

"Aww, that's so cute."

Luke waited with baited breath as Clary returned to the couch with some Cheerios in a bowl and took the remote in her hand once more. Would she ask? Would she ask the question he was dreading?

"Want one?" she offered, pushing the bowl under his nose as she reclaimed the remote.

"No, thanks," he answered with a smile. Clary's attention switched back to the television and she became entirely enthralled in the program.

No dreaded questions. Jace's name wasn't mentioned, the Lightwood issue had been cleared up and Madeleine had returned home… things were getting back to normal, and Luke couldn't be happier.


	32. Chapter 32

**Thank you to everyone reviewing! Hope you enjoy this, it will all come together in the next chapter- I promise! =]**

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Jace pulled open the door just before dawn, to find Mathieu waiting patiently for him. He was rocking backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet- a sign of pure unadulterated enthusiasm and excitement. Jace could feel his upper lip curl into a smug smirk- the kid wouldn't feel half as happy after half an hour with him. Training was tough, gruelling and exhausting- the kid wouldn't know what hit him, especially if he had only ever trained with the relic that was Jacques Christophe.

"Good morning!" Mathieu greeted. "Did you have a good sleep?"

"Compared to the rock-hard ground I have been sleeping on for the past few nights, your mattress was a nice improvement," Jace drawled. He had slept in the middle of the dormitory- half way between the beginning of the room and the end. It mirrored his own life, far enough from the past but still not exactly where he wanted to be. Half way.

"Come on Sparky, lead the way to the illustrious training room."

"Yes sir." Jace glowered at him, and the boy quickly blushed and averted his gaze to the floor. "Sorry… Jace."

"That's better," the older Shadowhunter said gruffly. He was in no position to demand the superior respect that came alongside formality, he didn't want it. Jace, he was just Jace. Nothing more, nothing less.

The training room was on the same floor as the dorms, further down the corridor on the opposite side. It was exactly what Jace had expected- a wooden floor and a wide, empty space. There were blue foam training mats piled up in the corner, and Jace already thought they would be necessary even without seeing the youngster in action.

Jace pulled off his shirt and started loosening up in his wife-beater. He always considered the name on that particular item of clothing strange, so he usually opted for calling it the slightly less-strange name of vest. As Jace began stretching against the wall, he realised that Mathieu was still standing still and just watching.

"What are you doing, kid?" he asked, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Waiting?" Mathieu said, sounding unsure of himself.

"Waiting for what?" Jace shot back incredulously.

"For you to begin teaching me?"

Jace rolled his eyes to the ceiling. This would be a very long morning. "Grab a practice mat and bring it over here. We'll start with stretches, I'll show you which ones to do."`

It had taken Jace two hours and fifteen minutes to show his protégé the main stretches and to get him practising them properly. By the end of the one hundred and thirty-five minutes, Mathieu knew that he would never forget those stretches as long as he lived. They were now ingrained on his brain. They would never be lost even if he wanted to lose them, each bend and twist and pull on his muscles was imprinted on his mind. They were all so similar, but with key differences- he had minor, aching pains in all his muscles; in muscles that he didn't even know he had! Mathieu was beginning to wish that he had not asked for Jace's help at all.

"Matt," Jace called, as he pulled out some more of the blue foam rectangles.

The boy looked up quickly, setting down his empty bottle of water. "Not more stretches, please!"

"No more stretches," the Shadowhunter chuckled darkly. "Although, you have to practice them at least twice a day- or this morning was completely and utterly pointless."

Mathieu nodded exuberantly. Jace now saw him as a bobble-head dog on someone's dashboard instead of a little Labrador. "At least twice a day," Mathieu agreed. "Definitely! I promise I will do it."

"Good, now we practise combat." The boy's eyes lit up and Jace masked a derisive snort. "Don't look so pleased, Matt. If you thought stretches were bad, you've seen nothing yet."

The boy groaned in a good-natured way and Jace gave a grin, a familiar glint lighting up his eyes. Mathieu actually looked quite scared as he watched Jace morph into a professional fighting perfectionist right before his eyes. And then the shouting started.

As it turned out, Jace was a perfectionist and he would accept nothing short of perfection. Mathieu began to detest his voice as it shouted commands his way, but at the same time he was awe-struck at how talented the older Shadowhunter was. It was a strange mix of emotions- he hated the roars directed his way, but he desperately wanted to do the tasks correctly and win Jace's praise.

"No! To the left, if you turn right I can block you! You could have hit me at least two decent shots to the ribs while I was defending my-"

Mathieu stepped back in horror with an aghast look painted on his face. Without him even knowing how he did it, he had managed to send his fist sailing into Jace's cheek. A smack of skin on skin woke the boy up to what he had done and his eyes went wide. This was it, Mathieu had finally done it. The first time he had ever had a chance at even improving his fighting skills- the first time he had come close to actually progressing… and he had ruined it. Jace was lethal, he was a walking deity of skill and talent that Mathieu could only dream of achieving. Jace had offered to teach him, to guide him and help him- that kind of good-fortune was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing! It was a lottery win, a shooting star and a four-leafed clover all rolled into one! And what had Mathieu done… he had punched him. He had punched Jace. He had just kissed his one chance away.

But, if he had messed up so spectacularly- and Mathieu was sure that he had- why on earth was Jace grinning? Why was a lazy smirk creeping up on his face so that the left side of his mouth stretched up into a big smile? And why was he nodding in some kind of _approving _manner? Oh, no, Mathieu thought, he had given Jace a concussion! What if he had brain damage?! How would he explain that to Jacques? He would surely kill him for injuring their guest.

"Nicely done," Jace congratulated. "Quit looking so apologetic, Sparky, you going to rush over to a demon's side and bandage him up after you injure him, or are you going to finish the job and send him back to where he came from?"

"The- the second option," Mathieu stuttered.

"Exactly," Jace clapped him on the shoulder.

"Jace? Aren't… em, aren't you, well-"

"What? Am I what?" Jace asked the shell-shocked boy in front of him.

"Well… angry? Or… hurt?" Mathieu looked up from beneath his lashes nervously, as if expecting Jace to hit him back or throw him out of the room.

Jace started laughing. Really laughing, and realised that it had been quite a while since he had done so. It was a good feeling, he mused. "Matt, why would I be angry because you just did what I have been telling you to do all morning long? And as for hurt- no, I am not. No offence, you are getting better but you aren't the Bionic Man just yet. Now, go over into that corner and come at me again."

"Again?" The boy echoed incredulously. The look on Jace's face told him all he needed to know. This wouldn't be the only time the word 'again' would be barked at him today.

"Good morning!" came Jacques' voice as the door creaked open. He had been watching the flurry of movement in the centre of the room for the last fifteen minutes and was highly impressed. He had waited until Jace told Mathieu that he could stop before he spoke. "I am thinking you will be both hungry, so there is the _petit dejeuner_ downstairs if you wish."

"Breakfast sounds good, thank you," Jace said. He was trying to keep his manners in check- he was only here for a very short time so he might as well leave a good impression. Plus, this was a new start- maybe even a new him. Jace pulled on his shirt and tossed Matt a bottle of water and a towel. Mathieu sat down heavily in the corner chugging from the plastic bottle and running the towel through his hair. He was gasping and perspiring thoroughly and could hardly believe that Jace seemed so unaffected by the morning's events. He was barely breathing hard and there was only the slightest hint of a sheen of sweat on his forehead. The hours of stretching and hand-to-hand combat fighting seemed to be nothing to him, a walk in the park that put him under no strain at all. Jace was like a finely tuned machine and Mathieu could scarcely get his head around it. Even the punch that he had thought was so powerful didn't make Jace flinch. He had just stood still like a statue carved out of rock-hard stone. He treated it all with indifference as if he was not anything special- but beneath the cool indifference, a sense of self-assured confidence and pride was prominent. Mathieu widened his eyes at Jacques and the man simply nodded knowingly in his direction, they followed Jace reverently down the stairs.

Jace was busily piling his plate with croissants and fruit when the front door slammed, and the noise of talking quickly filled the room. Jace quirked an eyebrow questioningly in Jacques's direction.

"That is Julien and Philippe, they live with us also," he informed him while Mathieu nodded.

"They are like my brothers," Mathieu informed him. Jace smirked at the way Matt accented the letters 'r' and 's'.

"Salut!" came a loud shout from the hallway. "Nous sommes ici! Nous vous avons manqué?" **(Hello, we're here. Did you miss us?)**

Two teens waltzed in the door, they looked to be about fifteen years old. One had dusty blonde hair with dark black tips and he was a little taller then the other boy who had brown hair with ruby red tips. They both reached for the croissants and began chewing. Jace nodded his head at them as they suddenly stopped eating and stared at the stranger sitting at their table.

"Julien, Philippe- this is Jace," Jacques introduced, adamant to keep up his English.

"Hey," Jace said noncommittally, returning to his food. He pulled a very sharp looking blade out of one of his numerous pockets and began sliced an apple into even pieces.

"Regarde," the one with the red tips said. "Il a beaucoup de lames. Tu pense qu'il est dangereux?" **(Look, he has a lot of blades. Do you think he is dangerous?)**

"Je sais pas," the other replied. "Peut-etre il est un ami- il parle avec Jacques Christophe. Je crois qu'il est un bidasse." **(I don't know. Maybe he is a friend- he is talking to Jacques Christophe. I think he is a soldier/fighter **_[Shadowhunter in other words]**)**_

They spoke quickly and ignored the wide-eyed warning looks Mathieu sent their way.

"Eh, je pense que nous devons etre prudents. Je crois qu'il pourra dangereux." **(I think we have to be careful.** **I believe he could be dangerous.)**

"Une bonne idée," Jace commented as he continued to slice up his apple. "

Souris qui n'a qu'un trou est bientôt prise. Je m'appelle Jace. Et, oui, je suis un ami et un bidasse. Mais je ne suis pas dangereux- non, ce n'est pas vrai: je suis tres dangereux mais pas á vous. Je vais rester ici pendant quelques jours." **(A good idea. Better to be safe then sorry. My name is Jace. And, yes, I am a friend and fighter. But I am not dangerous- no, that's not true: I'm very dangerous but not to you. I am going to stay here for a few days.)**

The two boys blushed scarlet with embarrassment as they realised Jace could speak French- and more importantly, that he had understood every word they said. Jacques chuckled in the corner as he buttered some bread and reached for some marmalade.

The boy with the red-tipped hair was the first to speak, and his cheeks mirrored the colour of his hair comically. "I am very sorry," he stumbled in his accented voice.

"C'est pas grave." Jace replied, stabbing a slice of apple with his knife and raising it to his mouth. **(No problem)**

"Jace is teaching me," Mathieu exclaimed. "He is the strongest fighter I have ever seen."

The two boys sat down across from Jace and shook his hand in turn.

"I am Philippe," the boy with the black tips said hesitantly.

"Julien," said the other as his cheeks began to return to their natural colour. "You are a Shadowhunter?"

"The best," Jace smirked cockily. Mathieu nodded excitedly beside him in affirmation and Jace suppressed the urge to roll his eyes towards the ceiling.

"You have fought many demons?" Julien asked.

"Fought, defeated, destroyed, killed- call it what you will. I fought a Dragonidae Demon not too long ago- surprisingly they aren't as extinct as people would think. Before that there was a Greater Demon, and all the minor daily run-ins. Raveners, Drevaks, Agramon."

Every pair of eyes at the table widened at Jace's offhand tone as he bit into another apple segment.

"A Greater Demon?" Jacques asked in shock. "You defeated a Greater Demon? And Agramon?"

"Yes, and yes."

"You, you teach Mathieu?" Philippe asked, he was the poorer of the newest arrivals at English it seemed, even though he had a firm grasp of the basics. Jace simply nodded. "You will teach us also?"

"If you want, but I won't be here for long," he warned. "And I would advise you to eat a good breakfast."


	33. Chapter 33

**Happy New Year guys! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing =]**

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Jace was standing in the corner surveying the scene in front of him. A scene of perfectly coordinated violence- a wonderful, gloriously planned show of fighting. They were using his moves, to the sound of his criticism and praise. It was a simple strike and block exercise- all about improving defence. His moves and his teaching. What more could Jace ask for?

"You are doing a wonderful job," Jacques said quietly from his side. Julien and Mathieu were still blocking and striking out smoothly. Philippe was sitting against the far wall, watching every move with scrutiny and copying some of the moves.

"Julien, switch with Phil," Jace called. Julien nodded and slid down against the wall to catch his breath. "Half an hour more of this, then we move to the weapons room."

"Thank you," Jace said to Jacques, his eyes never leaving the two boys in the centre of the floor. "Matt, your arm is two low- you're going to get a broken jaw."

"You are very talented," Jacques commented.

"No, I am just a Shadowhunter. I do what I am supposed to do, and I do it well."

"Very, very well. I am thinking you live for the job. Are you a… how do I say, you had a home or you… roam all the time?"

Jace simply stared at the flurry of movement taking place on the blue practice mats. His jaw tightened. He wasn't going to let himself thing of all the implications that question posed. Jace was not going to think of the days preceding this, he was not going to think of what he had done, or what she had done. All gone, live in the present and the here and now.

"I had a home, and now I'm travelling for awhile."

"There was a girl involved?"

"Isn't there always?"

"I see. No problem, Jace. I am seeing you do not wish to speak of it. I would like to know more about the demons you have fought."

Jace turned and leant against the wall on his Marked shoulder, Jacques looked at him inquisitively and saw the questions burning brightly in the blonde's eyes.

"How do you manage your own demon problems?" Jace asked curiously.

"We don't, not very well at least. There are some Shadowhunters living a few towns over that we call if we get a very serious problem."

"Well, hopefully now these guys can help you." Jace said. "It's their duty to."

Jace could tell that Jacques wanted to say more, but for some reason was holding back. Yet he certainly wasn't going to coax him into voicing his concerns- next, they would be painting each others' nails and tearing open the face masks. Jace was not going to partake in a chatting session of baring his soul to someone he barely knew. It seemed, however, that Jacques didn't need much coaxing- he merely needed to find the words.

"I wish to talk to you," Jacques began, attempting to look in Jace's darting eyes.

"Isn't that what we're doing?" Jace shot back. Then he winced, he was supposed to be keeping himself in check- new start, new Jace. Set a good example, be pleasant and all that jazz. "My apologies, Jacques. Old habits die hard, and I am not the most sociable of people."

"There is no reason to tell me your sorries," Jacques said good-naturedly in his strange English. "I am wanting to ask you something… but I do not want you to feel… pressured. Is this the correct word? Pressured into accepting?"

Jace quirked an eyebrow- more to himself then to the man speaking to him. "That is the right word, Jacques. So what is your proposition?" Seeing the confused look on the elderly Shadowhunter's face, Jace hastily reworded his sentence. "Your offer, Jacques. What did you want to ask me?"

"I see," Jacques started. "That we have a common… need."

"A need?" Jace echoed. Disbelief did not colour his tone but it was painted on his face behind his carefully constructed mask.

"You need somewhere to stay-"

"Which you have very kindly provided," Jace interrupted, wondering if this was the talk one got before getting kicked out. It wouldn't be surprisingly really if it was- sure, Jace was helping the younger boys; but he wasn't exactly the _nicest _person. Even though, in his personal opinion, Jace had been doing quite well. Maybe 'quite well' wasn't good enough for the French… the boys were pretty mannerly for young teenagers of thirteen and fifteen.

"And I- we- need, we very badly need, someone to train our students. To train them and prepare them for the life of a Shadowhunter. Clearly, I have been failing them in that. But, as I said- do not feel under pressure to accept. Although we would be entirely pleased if you would stay with us."

"I- I don't know, Jacques."

"You are on a journey, yes?" The man asked, pushing some of his snowy hair back from his face.

Jace nodded minutely.

"And you are looking for something, yes? Perhaps for yourself? Where better to find this then among friends in one of the most beautiful countries in the world?"

Jace froze. Trapped in his whirling thoughts… was this what he wanted? To set up in a brand new place where he was sorely needed and more then welcome? Or did he still want to leave? Leave and start sleeping under trees in the rain again? Maybe this was it- Jace didn't know where he was going, he didn't know what he was looking for. Maybe this wasn't the half-way point… maybe this was the destination. For now at least. It was far away from New York, he was doing something worthwhile- it was his job as a Shadowhunter to fight off demons, this was un-hunted ground that could be swarming with them… he was needed here. And, the food was really good. Maybe this was the destination, and he could always leave whenever he wanted anyways. So the inner battle continued in Jace's mind as he weighed up the pros and cons.

"You present a good case, Jacques," Jace said, avoiding looking at the elderly man. "But I can't guarantee that I won't leave some time soon…"

"Of course not!" Jacques interrupted. "But perhaps you are to be willing to stay for longer, then perhaps, tomorrow?"

Jace looked again at the boys blocking each other's hits on the floor. Jacques watched as the boy continued to battle it out in the confines of his own mind. He was deliberating, searching for an answer. Jacques could only hope for a positive outcome, pray for it. They needed help, and anyone could tell that Jace was over-qualified for the position of helper. He would be perfect- in one day he had already achieved so much. Jacques waited with baited breath, and resisted the urge to cross his fingers hopefully.

"Yeah… yeah, I would be happy to."

Jace had no idea what he signed up to. But it meant a roof over his head, a place to sleep and some really good food. Who could pass that up when the alternative was so drastically opposite? And he had to keep telling himself that this was not a way of replacing the others, this was not a new family- it was just somewhere to stay. Simple as that. Nothing more, nothing less. Even though he knew that everyone else wouldn't see it that way- but everyone else was still in New York, he had no one to answer to here. He was starting afresh, and as such could do whatsoever he liked. Or at least, that's what Jace was adamantly telling himself.

"Alright guys," he shouted, breaking out of his reverie. "Go and grab a drink and meet me in the weapons room."

Jacques must have realised that the conversation was over and Jace didn't want to talk anymore, so he left the room and made for the stairs. There was a happy spring in his step as he did so, and Jace realised that the man had been worried about his charges for some time. Philippe was the only one left in the room, considerately gathering the small towels and empty bottles of water. The others had already followed Jace's instruction and made their way to the weapons room gleefully.

"Phil, are you the only ones here?" Jace asked, seizing his chance before the adjourned to the other room.

"What are you meaning?" Philippe asked, his face scrunching up in puzzlement.

"Well, I didn't know that you and Julien lived here- does anyone else? Anyone besides you, Julien, Matt and Jacques?"

Philippe nodded brightly in understanding, the black tips of his gelled hair barely moving as his head shook. "Ah, oui! I understands now. Many times we have the doctors of plants to stay with us. There is also Lyn who is living with us. She goes- on business, but she will come back in the soon."

"And what is Lyn like?"

"Lyn is… _fantastique_. She is like _Maman_ to us sometimes. She is very kind, she speaks the English more better then me. She speaks… how do you say- _couramment_?"

"Fluently." Jace supplied. "When will she be back?"

This Lyn had obviously won the boys' affections, and Jace had no problem with the idea of her at all… as long as she didn't attempt to mother him too. That wouldn't be well received- that would be the only thing that would convince Jace to leave. And leave he would- quickly.

"I am thinking tomorrow," Philippe answered. "She live with us all times, except now as she goes for business."

"I see. Right, well, let's get to the weapons room and see how we get on in there."

Philippe paused at the door. "Did I understands correctly what Jacques Christophe said to you? Will you stay with us for some more times?"

Jace pulled the wooden door shut and started to walk down the hall. "Yeah, I think I will. The Angel knows you people need all the help you can get."

"If we get more better at fighting- you will bring us to fight the demons in the city?"

Jace scoffed. "I said I would be here for a while, kid, not until the day I die."

"I do not understands," Philippe admitted with a blush.

"Yeah, sure," Jace replied in a resigned tone. "I'll take you when you get better."


	34. Chapter 34

**Thank you so much to everyone reading and reviewing! All coming together here as promised! =]**

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It seemed that in this particular Institute, the prime time for visitors to arrive was during or directly after mealtimes. Jace was sprawled out in front of the blazing fireplace when the door into the kitchen opened noiselessly. The only reason Jace knew that there was anyone new in the building was due to the fact that Jacques Christophe started speaking to someone exuberantly. Jace could hear the smacking sounds of the usual French greeting- a kiss on each cheek, it was a greeting he had successfully dodged so far. Jace appeared to be the only one who heard the entrance, the others were too absorbed in the television.

"Lee, change the channel," Jace asked- although it wasn't really a request.

Julien glanced up, and happily passed Jace the remote. All the boys appeared to enjoy the fact that Jace had given them their own nicknames in place of the formal way Jacques referred to them. Jace was starting to feel glad that he had accepted the invitation to stay, he liked the laid back life he had been revelling in since he had arrived. It offered him acceptance, and he was proud of what he had achieved with the boys' training so far.

Julien and Philippe were brothers, and more experienced then Matt. They were both fifteen years old- Phil's birthday was only week ago, and Julien would be turning sixteen in the following week. They had spent more time in Idris with proper teachers and trainers, but they still needed a lot of work. Work that Jace was setting for them. Matt, being only just thirteen, had much more to learn but was learning very quickly. They had started yesterday, working from dawn to dusk. Today, they were repeating the process- but Jace knew better then to work them too hard, even when they were so eager. So he had designated a break: they were relaxing after dinner in front of the television.

"Do you want to do more practice this evening or leave it until tomorrow?" Now that Jace knew he would be staying in France indefinitely, he was not as anxious to squeeze huge amounts of work into every available minute. This didn't have to be a quick cramming-session anymore, he could take his time to teach them properly now.

"I am thinking we needs more time with the weapons," Philippe quipped, sitting cross-legged on the plush cream carpet and juggling three decoratively painted ovals that had been sitting in a bowl on the table beside him.

"Well, Jacques has done a good job as far as runes are concerned so I'll leave that to him," Jace said. No, not runes- Jace chided himself. No talking about runes. Runes were linked to _her, _he didn't want to think of that. New start. New place. New life.

"I want to better the knifes," Julien pronounced proudly- it was clearly a sentence he had been struggling to put together in his head for the past few minutes.

"I think we all need to improve our skills with blades," Matt murmured, gaze never straying from the small television set. Jace found himself staring at the little box too- he had never owned a television, he was enthralled to see what held Mundies' attentions for so long. So far, he didn't really grasp the addiction that afflicted most Mundanes- but he had to admit that the type of television that he was watching here was much better then what he had been subjected to in Magnus's company.

"That's fine, blades I can do." Jace nodded minutely in answer to what Matt had pointed out.

"We does more this night?" Phil asked, plucking some sweets from a bowl on the wooden coffee table.

"Up to you," Jace said noncommittally. "If you aren't tired."

"Before bed, I think we should work some more in the weapons room."

"Your wish is my command, Mathieu," Jace mock saluted as the boys laughed. "Now pass me the food- you people have to pay me somehow."

"I never heard of Shadowhunters being paid in sweets," Julien teased, throwing a cushion at his brother lazily. On the television screen, the French jabbering continued in direct conflict with the sounds of conversation and closing cupboard doors seeping through from the kitchen. The others still hadn't noticed it. Philippe tossed the cushion back, and Matt seized it out of the air. Jace merely surveyed the friendly exchange from his place on the couch.

"I'm special," Jace proclaimed airily. "I get paid in confectionary, carved solid-gold statues of myself, and the adoring love of glamorous girls on an international level."

"This is why we must study well with you," Julien laughed. "I want also to be special."

"He wants only the girls," Philippe laughed. The cushion throwing recommenced and Jace couldn't help chuckling at their banter. It made him feel better about leaving behind the others- the ones _he_ used to banter with.

"Girls are trouble, steer clear," Jace advised, snatching the decorative oval hurtling through the air towards his head. Phil shot him an apologetic look, and placed the other two back in the bowl out of harm's way.

"He says this only because he wants them all to himself," Matt informed the others conspiratorially. "He does not hunt demons at all, he goes hunting girls!"

The three boys erupted into laughter as Jace remained silent, a wry smirk painted on his face. They didn't know any better- it was just irrelevant chatter… he could laugh at it too. He was Strong Jace- he didn't get affected by mere emotions or by the past. He could laugh it all off, because nothing touched him. Strong, sarcastic, egotistical, quick with a knife and even quicker with a sharp word- not to mention smartly dressed with damn good hair. He could laugh this off- he could pretend that they were talking about just any random girl on the street, pretend that it didn't make him think of her. He had to get used to this- get used to his new start. Slowly, he was beginning to push thoughts of New York and its inhabitants out of his mind. It lingered- the pain. Constantly. But somehow, the people he was sharing his time with now… made it fade. Their eagerness, their amusing struggle to express themselves, their smiles and laughs, the way they put him to work- it helped him to chase away some of that latent pain. It let him recover somehow. He had to teach them- it was a purpose, instead of meaningless wandering around a very big world where nobody really cared. Faces and memories still haunted his nightmares- taunting him with words that had been spoken, things that had been implied and sentences that had never been spoken out loud. But he was learning to deal with it- Strong Jace suffered in silence, and most of the time he didn't allow himself to suffer at all. His new 'job' was helping him to deal, it seemed almost as effective as his other plan: to go on a crazed rampage of Shadowhunting, defeating any and every demon he came across.

"He will bring us hunting properly, though. Is that true, Jace? For the demons?" Phil seemed anxious to establish this fact. Jace could already see the big differences between the brothers- Julien was the more image-conscious of the two, he liked to appear stronger in every way and wanted to appear independent. Jace could see elements of himself in his character. Philippe seemed much younger then his brother, and at times even younger then Mathieu. He was more dependent on others. They were all eager to please, and all determined to improve- strong in their own ways.

"Sure, once I think you're all up for it," Jace admitted.

"So you will stick around for us?" Matt asked.

Jace rolled his eyes. "Yes, and we're going back upstairs to the weapons room in ten minutes-" The boys groaned jokingly, Jace could tell that they were happy to go back to work. "So, finish stuffing your faces now."

"Je ne comprends pas," Philippe said wearily, and Julien looked confused. **(I don't understand.)** They were both running concerned hands over their cheeks- the only word they picked up was 'faces'.

Matt gave a quick translation while Jace smirked. He drained his drink quickly and placed the glass back on the coffee table. "Right, come on- upstairs."

The boys all reached for the bowls of sweets and empty glasses and began walking towards the kitchen. Their manners were impeccable and clearly drilled into them. Jace could only laugh at the way things would have been left back at the Institute in New York- glasses dotted around the room and a smell of burning emanating from the kitchen. He wondered if anything had ever been even singed in this rustic kitchen.

The visitor was still in the kitchen, she had her back to Jace but he knew that it was a woman from the long silver hair flowing down her back. She was wearing an emerald green jacket- it was a long, cloak-like coat that he knew used to be fashionable in Idris. For some reason, the silver skeins of hair seemed very familiar, and Jace had no idea why.

"Lyn!" the boys called. Philippe wrapped his arms around the woman from behind.

"Mes garcons!" the woman cried. **(My boys!)** Jacques grinned in the corner as Julien and Mathieu raced over. The woman shoved back the wooden chair from the table and whirled around to envelop the boys in a hug. Jace could hear his name being mentioned in a rapid torrent of both French and English… but Jace wasn't listening to what was being said. He was frozen, eyes locked on the smiling face in front of him.

His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed, every muscle in his body tensed. Jace strode over to the other end of the kitchen.

"Jacques Christophe, je te remercie beaucoup. C'etait chouette ici, et je me suis vraiment amusé. Malheureusement, je dois partir. Je vais aller tout de suite. Merci beaucoup encore, je suis desolé- c'est tres impoli mais necessaire. Les gars, je suis desole mais il n'y aura pas l'entrainement ou des chasses. Vous etes tres forts, et vous avez l'envie de reussir. Vous serez parfait. Travaillez bien. Bonne chance. Au revoir mes amis." **(Jacques Christophe, I thank you. It was wonderful here, and I really enjoyed myself. Unfortunately, I have to leave. I am going to go immediately. Thank you very much once again, I am sorry- this is impolite but necessary. Boys, I am sorry but there will not be any training tonight or any hunts. You are very strong, and you have the hunger to succeed. You will be perfect. Work well. Good luck. Goodbye my friends.)**

Jace spoke very quickly in very fast and very fluent French, before turning on his heel and very rapidly going up the stairs. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, and knew that he was hurting the boys but he couldn't stay here now. This was Jace- Jace was good at hurting people and inflicting pain. They would get over it. He slammed the door to his room and pulled out his worn rucksack.

He couldn't stay here anymore. He could not live under this roof.

Silver hair and a long cloak. Kind and motherly and well-spoken.

His past was rushing up to greet him and pull him back in. Chasing him like a furious wave biting at his ankles, threatening to swallow him whole.

Lyn- like Madeleine.

Madeleine Bellefleur.

His time here was up, time to move on. Jace heard the door open behind him and cursed. Why wouldn't they just let him go?


	35. Chapter 35

**Thank you so much to everyone reading and reviewing! It means so much! Don't hesitate to let me know what you think =]**

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They were all shouting. Shouting at him in a mix of English and French- Jace didn't want hear any of it. He kept shoving clothes into his case at random- he knew he shouldn't have taken them out. He should never have even entertained the idea of staying here. What a mistake. Yet another fatal mistake. Surely he could not make anymore. Jace was not supposed to make mistakes. He would make sure that he perpetrated no more. He was getting out, getting away and finally learning from his mistakes.

This clearly meant that he was supposed to be alone. Forget human contact, forget the overrated notion of social acceptance. Jace was meant for one thing- the job. There were no lies there, there were no tricks or deceptions- it was just him and the demon. The winner and the loser. The struggle and the victory. Jace was made for Shadowhunting- not family life or love. To love was to destroy- he had been told that many times, but it was finally beginning to sink in.

"Jace! Jace, non- reste ici! S'il tu plait!-"

"Yes, Jace. Please! Stay here! Stay-"

"Pourquoi tu dois-"

"Why, Jace, why? Don't leave! What have we done to-"

"Please don't leave on account of me. I am not who you think I-"

"You know Jace?!"

"Je suis perdu! I not understands."

"Jace, I spoke to Clary, and-"

It was the last comment that made Jace whirl around with fury spitting in his irises. That gentle-spoken voice that Jace detested. His jaw was tight with anger and his teeth were gritted together. The sound of her voice attempting to placate him seemed to make something inside him snap. He erupted- a volcano spilling over with red-hot lava.

"Don't you dare mention her name!" he hissed in a threatening manner. "You took her from me. Get back to her and let me live my empty existence knowing that you have what I never can."

"Boys, I think we should be leaving Jace and Lyn to talk," Jacques Christophe murmured as he started to usher the boisterous boys out the door.

"Don't bother, Jacques," Jace told him shortly, swinging his rucksack onto his back. He knew that he had his weapons, anything else left behind could be afforded to be forgotten. He just had to get out. Get out quick before he did something violent that he may or may not live to regret. "I am leaving, Jacques. You have been an excellent host and unbelievably kind to me. I apologise again for my rudeness but I really must leave."

"She is not with me- please, Jace, let me explain. I only met Clarissa for the first time the other day- there was an impostor. Your father, he sent an impostor to-" Words spilled from Madeleine's mouth in a garbled attempt at explanation.

"Stop," Jace cried. "Stop filling me up with your lies."

In his moment of frustration and claustrophobia, Jace wrenched a dagger from his pocket. A steel blade with a midnight blue handle- dangerous beauty, he loved it and loved to destroy with it. Jace did not brandish it towards the woman, merely held it tight in his hand.

"Get out of my way and let me leave," he ordered. The woman with the silvery hair and soft eyes looked panicked- as if she knew that he was going to slip through her fingers, and for some reason she had to prevent that from happening.

"She is broken!" Madeleine exclaimed. "She is going crazy trying to find you- she wants you back. Her life is as empty as yours without you in it."

Jace gave a short bark of dry, humourless laughter. It sounded almost maniacal, and highly scathing. Laughing at the woman, mocking her words. The boys and Jacques Christophe were frozen in the doorway, trying to listen attentively and understand correctly.

"I do not belong in her life," he jeered in a low, dangerous growl. "Our lives are too different. We live in different worlds, you told her so yourself! She lives in all the happy, colourful joy of life. I live in the pain filled world of depression and darkness. You told her, she agreed. That's the reason- the reason why she paints all those pictures in bright colours. All of them accept mine! She only ever drew me in black and white. We don't belong- we never have and everyone knows it."

Madeleine dug into her pockets as Jace strode purposefully to the door. "No," she shrieked. "Don't let him leave! Just give me a minute- please, keep him in the room, Jacques."

Immediately, Julien, Mathieu, Philippe and Jacques Christophe stood solidly in front of the small doorway.

"Don't do this, let me leave. Don't make me force my way out." Jace's eyes were darting around the room looking for another escape- any other escape. He didn't even care that he was breaking down or running again- all that mattered was getting out of the room. His past had to be left in the past, Jace could curse himself for his cowardice later on- the only thing of importance now was escape. Escape into the dark night where he could meld into the black sky like a shadow, and nobody would find him.

"Jace, you promised," Matt whispered sadly. Phil looked crestfallen like a puppy that had just been kicked for no reason. Julien was scowling in his attempt to look tough, but anyone could tell that he was upset- his eyes gave him away.

"Ah! I found it!" Madeleine called. "Jace, please- look at this before you go."

Jace turned around, merely to tell her that he would do no such thing- and perhaps to judge whether the window was large enough to jump out of- but when he saw what was in her hands… he froze. Jace couldn't move. It was a large sheet of thick paper, creases showed the lines where it had been folded up numerous times.

It was art. A portrait of two people. A girl and a boy. Both beautiful in different ways.

The boy on the right and the girl on the left. He had a defiant look on his face- strong and fearless. His eyes blazed as he stared straight out at the people on the outside looking at his painted face. The girl looked troubled and worry creased her face. She was angled towards the boy, gazing at his face and her apologetic eyes pleaded for him to turn to her- but he refused to acknowledge her in his headstrong defiance.

In between them, in calligraphy written in pure black ink, were the words _**I'm Sorry**_

Jace stood still and tried to breathe. As he took in every aspect of the page, he was forced to sit down on one of the beds. He stared at the piece of paper held motionless in Madeleine's hands. It was Clary's drawing. Another one of her flawless masterpieces. Pain and regret poured off the page, in the way that only Clary could manage to master through her art- never had any other stuffy painting Jace had seen achieved that. But this one did, because she had drawn it. It was of him and her.

Just Jace and Just Clary.

And it screamed _life_ with its vibrant colours.

So bright that Jace wondered if she had used a rainbow as her palette. Every strand of hair, every fleck in their bright eyes, every part of _him_…

Jumped to life with _vivid_ **colour**.

He was in colour, bright colour that matched hers exactly its intensity.

Jace was in the same painting as Clary, and they were both in colour. Bright, bright, blazing colour that made the breath in Jace's chest stop abruptly as he tried to work out the significance and implications present in the one sheet of colour-coated paper. Oscar Wilde sprung to his mind and Jace could feel a wry smirk grace his inner-self.

"Mere **colour,** unspoiled by meaning, and unallied with definite form, can speak to the soul in a thousand different ways."

Jace didn't try to reach the door, he just sat still and basked in the colour that was him… with Clary.


	36. Chapter 36

**Thank you so much to everyone reviewing and reading!! =]

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**

Madeleine hesitantly passed Jace the portrait. "Please let me explain," she said quietly. The drama, it seemed, had passed for now.

"I'll let you explain- then I am going to leave," Jace muttered resolutely. He was holding the portrait in his hands as though it were made of gold. As if it answered all his prayers and held the secret to immortality. At that moment, with that page in his hand, Jace resembled a starving man with a ticket for a free seven-course meal clutched in-between his fingers.

Madeleine paused, but decided not to argue with the Shadowhunter in front of her. She clearly didn't want Jace to leave- she wanted things to plan out in a different manner but for now she would just work on telling her story.

"Perhaps," Jacques offered from the doorway. "You would like to use the kitchen? It is warmer and you could both get something to drink?"

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea," Jace murmured after a small silence. He still hadn't averted his gaze from his own face as it lay alongside Clary's. He eased himself up from the edge of the bed in one fluid movement, his inky Marks glimmering under the yellow light from the chandelier in the middle of the ceiling. He walked out of the room with his back ramrod straight, the posture of a soldier full of pride even when his heart told him to shuffle. The small gathering around the door instantly moved so that he could pass, and Jace led the descent downstairs silently.

Jacques ushered the boys into the sitting room as Madeleine lowered herself into one of the wooden chairs at the table. Jace swung another around deftly in one hand and sat down with a grim look on his face. The chair was the wrong way around, the long wooden beams decorating the back of the chair rested against his chest- like a barrier between him and the woman across the table. Jace's forearms lay on the top of his backwards chair as his calculating eyes sized up Madeleine. It didn't escape her notice that every pocket on display held a weapon of some sort, she wondered how many similar secret compartments were hidden from her view. Jace placed the page silently and almost reverently onto the table, closer to him then her. He never spoke, but his eyes commanded Madeleine to explain- and explain fast.

"You had her," he accused softly. "Clary, you took her from me."

"No," Madeleine replied hastily. "That wasn't me."

Jace extracted a long, slim blade from his inside pocket and left it wordlessly before him on the table. Madeleine knew that he could kill her as fast as look at her. The knife was only intended to threaten her and remind her of that fact. Luke had told her who he was, and how talented he was. Ruthless and expeditious. Even the fact that he had left the knife on the table reaffirmed that- it told her that he wasn't afraid to leave a weapon close to her, because he knew that if she so much as glanced at it wrong, he could stop her without difficulty.

"Don't forget who I am," Jace said lightly. "And don't forget that she isn't here to stop me this time."

"Jace, I have never met you before in my life- I swear it. It wasn't me who kept Clary-"

"I may appreciate the painting, but don't you dare think for one minute that you can buy me with bright pieces of paper. I might be a devilishly handsome fellow, and be flattered by this little portrait, but I have absolutely no qualms about using one of my knives on you. And trust me- they're nice and sharp."

Madeleine made a quick decision and resolved to quickly tell her story before the youth in front of her escaped. "I live here with Jacques and the boys- I only left for a short business trip to America. I was a very close friend of Jocelyn and Lucian's in the old days. I called in on Jocelyn while I was there, and found an empty apartment so I called Lucian who told me where she was. I met him at his apartment soon after, Clarissa was there… she locked herself in her room when she saw me. I didn't know why. Lucian explained. There was an impostor- sent by Valentine- to monitor Clarissa and attempt to force her into using her powers for him. The powers she possesses relating to runes. Lucian and the Lightwoods confronted the impostor after you left, they were lucky he was there- they were going to let her go on Clary's insistence before Lucian realised that the woman was most certainly not me. The High Warlock of Brooklyn was called, and her memory of Clarissa was wiped before he handed her over to the Clave."

Madeleine looked up at the teenager, he was still listening. His face was grim and expressionless as he stared at her. Suppressing a sigh, she continued- hoping that he believed her so far.

"That woman told her terrible lies, Jace. Lies about Jocelyn and Valentine. She convinced Clary that she could save Jocelyn if she helped her- Clarissa had no chance, Jace. Those lies appealed to her better nature- she only wanted to save her mother, that's all. She regrets it, Jace. She was… broken, when I saw her. She hates herself for what she has done to you."

"Why should I trust you? How do I know that you are telling the truth?" he raised an eyebrow in a challenging manner.

"How do you know that I am lying? Have some faith, Jace. Do I sound like the woman you encountered? Do I act like her? If I was the woman that you think I am, would I be trying to send you back to Clary? She is looking for you- they all are. They want you back so badly…"

Jace waited until Madeleine turned her head upwards to face him before he spoke. His eyes locked with hers and she found it impossible to turn away. She could see the strength in them, the power and the intensity in those golden orbs.

"What if I don't want to go back?" he said it in a smug way, not like a question at all. He had abandoned all ties with New Jace, he was going back to what he used to be: smug, arrogant, egotistical and conceited. The usual mask. It seemed like he had accepted Madeleine's story and her real identity now.

Madeleine faltered. "They love you, Jace. All of them. Why would you intentionally pass up love?"

Jace gave a short bark of wry laughter. "Oh Madeleine. Innocent, naïve Madeleine. Don't you realise? Love is overrated. To love is to destroy, Madeleine. It is giving an unworthy fool the power to drag you down and corrupt you. Why would you intentionally subject yourself to that?"

"Look at the picture, Jace. You know that isn't true. Love is hard, love can cause pain- but it does not destroy. The course of true love never did run smooth- it is a road covered with bumps and holes and sometimes fatal accidents, but it does not destroy if it is real love. True love wins through every time. Only those who fight love off or refuse to fight for it get destroyed- they destroy themselves, Jace. If you stopped to analyse it you would realise that I am right."

Jace remained silent in deep contemplation as he frowned at the page on the table. So what if she was right… it was too late now. He had already left, Clary had already abandoned him. It was too late, the game was up. He didn't want to go back, he didn't want to live in the past. People who refused to fight for love ended up destroying themselves…

"And Clary is with Luke?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Madeleine answered.

"The Lightwoods?"

"Lucian told me that they too are looking for you, but were still at the Institute when I left."

Jace let the silence fill the room, it shrouded him as Madeleine observed him under lowered lashes. He ran his fingers along the edges of the page again, and blinked very slowly. His knife lay directly between his face and Clary's, right between the words I'm Sorry. Sorry… was he sorry? Would he be? He was Jace- defiant, strong and independent Jace. Did he want to be tied down and hurt? Did he want to relinquish the freedom he had embraced when he left New York? Jace stared in the silence and mulled over his thoughts, his face looking troubled and conflicted.

Slowly, Jace stood and pushed the chair back under the table in its correct position. He clasped his knife in his hand and returned it to its place in his pocket.

"Thank you, Madeleine," he said lowly. He walked through the sitting room where the television was switched off, without acknowledging anyone or anything. As his form retreated up the stairs, Madeleine shot Jacques a worried look and called after him.

"Where are you going?" she asked. Madeleine prayed that he would say Home, or New York, or To Clary… or anywhere that would signify that he was going where he needed to be.

"Somewhere new," he answered without turning around. His voice sounded resigned as he trudged up the steps- his gait exuding power and strength as always… Madeleine began to wonder if it was all just for show.


	37. Chapter 37

**Here's chapter 37 =] Thank you so much to everyone reading and reviewing, it means so much to me- it really does! Don't forget to let me know what you think =)**

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Jace walked into his room… well, not really his room- just the room he had been given to stay in. He closed the door softly and leant against it, the cold wood pressing against his back as his eyelids fluttered closed and he drew in shallow breaths. Jace didn't want to open his eyes, he didn't want to see the bed in the middle of the room with his packed bag on top of it. He didn't want to acknowledge that he had chosen the right bed- in the middle, far from the start and far from the end. The middle didn't seem so great anymore- it was just a place he was trapped. Like quicksand- he couldn't go back and didn't know where forward was. It was like purgatory- a stupid waiting room between heaven and hell. And who even knew if those places existed? What if he just got stuck in the waiting room forever and never went any higher or lower? Jace was just stuck in the middle, trying to prepare himself for a journey of roaming with no destination in mind.

He couldn't go back, he tried to tell himself. Clary did not want him. Love only destroyed, according to Madeleine, if you didn't fight for it. Clary didn't want to fight.

"_I'll just be your brother from now on. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"_

She had nodded, she had agreed. That was what she wanted. All he did was complicate her life- she had Luke and Simon, she didn't need him. Jace could feel the battle wage on in his heart and his head. He wanted to go back… he thought. But everything he had ever been taught told him that that was the wrong choice. Everything Valentine Morgenstern had ever told him, everything his father had instructed him to live by. Independence, strength… all those things that were supposed to make him Jace. All those little adjectives that were supposed to define what he was. Thoughts of Clary being 'broken' tore Jace up inside, and he wanted to go back… but he couldn't- surely he couldn't succumb to the weakness. Could he?

"Jace?"

A small voice broke him out of his reverie and Jace slowly opened his eyes. He very nearly smiled when he saw them. Julien, Mathieu and Philippe were all perched on his bed in states of obvious sadness. It was like Max all over again, Jace groaned to himself.

"Where are you going?" Matt asked forlornly.

Jace walked over to the bed and sat back against the headboard, staring at the chandelier in the middle of the ceiling. "I don't know," he sighed.

"Is it the girl?" Julien asked.

Jace's eyebrows shot up. "How do you know about the girl?"

"Jacques," Phil admitted with a shrug.

Jace gave a soft, sardonic chuckle. "Yeah, it's the girl."

"Does you love her?" Phil asked with wide eyes.

"Who doesn't," Jace muttered.

"Then you should go home to her," Matt advised. Jace snorted and flung his head back against the headboard again to stare at the ceiling. Was he seriously getting advice from a trio of French teenagers who were younger then him and barely knew what a girl was, much less how they thought? How ridiculously surreal. He was really scraping the bottom of the barrel this time.

"It's not that simple, boys. It's never that simple."

Julien pushed himself up further on the mattress. "I does not see why it is not easy. If you love her, then you should be at home with her."

"Look, boys, it's just complicated, okay." Jace sighed. He shouldn't go back, Clary didn't want to fight for him- she just wanted a brother, and she had that in Simon. He should just keep going- everything he had ever known, everything his thoughts told him urged him to leave the past in the past. But was it really the past if it kept chasing his heels to catch up with him?

"You will not stay here?" Phil asked sadly.

"I highly doubt it."

"You promised…" Matt mumbled.

"Technically I promised to stay longer then today… which considering that it's now after eleven pm, I have done."

Jace pulled his hand wearily through his hair, musing that he needed a haircut. Isabelle would scold him endlessly for the state of his tangled golden locks. If she could see him. Which she probably wouldn't… Jace felt the overwhelming urge to scream. To smash his fist into something like a concrete wall- regardless of the pain. The frustration was tearing him to pieces. Where was he going to go? France had been an easy choice- he could speak the language and he had thought that no one from New York would ever find him there. That had definitely worked.

"But we need your help," Julien protested.

"No, you don't," Jace told them firmly. "You _needed_ my help, and you got it. You know the stretches, you can practise the moves together. You were helping each other while I was helping you- you know when one of you go wrong and you can correct it yourselves. You guys are going to be absolutely fine. You will all make great Shadowhunters- you already are great Shadowhunters."

Jace pulled his rucksack onto his lap and unzipped it quickly. The bedside locker still held a shirt or two of his, in his haste to get away from Madeleine he had left them behind. He would need them before he left. Jace was pretty sure that no matter where he went, shirts would come in pretty useful.

* * *

"We cannot let him leave, Jacques," Madeleine protested. She was speaking slower then usual- Jacques was adamantly refusing to switch back to French, he felt he had improved a lot in the last few days.

"It is, in the end, his choice. We have no right to interfere, Lyn. It is not our place," Jacques sighed. "But I am in agreement with you."

Madeleine had spent the last few minutes explaining everything that she had learnt from Lucian. All that she knew of Jace and Clary, and what she had witnessed when she was in New York.

"They will both be miserable, Jacques. More so then they already are. It was all just a misunderstanding, and I believe that we are the only ones who can possibly help to fix it."

"What do you want me to do?" Jacques asked, his tone laced with resignation.

"Make sure that nobody comes downstairs, and make sure that Jace does not leave."

Jacques raised a snowy eyebrow and the crow's-feet around his eyes crinkled up to match the lines on his forehead. "What are you going to do?"

"I am going to make a phone-call." Jacques shot her a pointed look. "Oh hush, it's just a simple phone call."


	38. Chapter 38

**First off- thank you so much for the reviews! I have been so busy that I have barely had time to read them, much less reply.  
Secondly- I'm back at school and my mother is threatening to ban Fanfiction from me (but I won't let that happen!!) It's an important school year and I have a lot of work to do- I'm going to update as often as possible, but chapters may be a bit short... This story shouldn't be too much longer, but still. I am sorry, if I had my way I would stay home and write all day- but for some reason I amn't allowed** **lol =(**

* * *

Clary had been mutely watching the television and munching on some toast when Luke's phone began to buzz on the kitchen table. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and his hand lazily tried to clam his severe case of messy hair, he grabbed the phone and tiredly uttered 'hello'. Clary paid no attention until she heard the door to the apartment close. Luke had slipped out of the apartment quietly leaving Clary alone with the sounds of the television filling her ears. Since when had Luke ever taken a call outside?

"Who was that?" Clary asked while she brushed the breadcrumbs off her shirt.

Luke gently closed the door on his way back inside. He had been outside for at least ten minutes. "Oh… no one. Just a woman trying to order a book from me. Difficult customers, you know yourself." Clary nodded and decided not to press him any further.

That had been two hours ago. Luke had been somewhat distant and on edge ever since the call. So much so that he gone for a walk to 'get some fresh air'. Clary let him go, she had been taking many walks herself while she attempted to sort out her thoughts. That, and try to work out where Jace was. Although, Clary didn't really understand why it was that Luke felt compelled to wander off in the dark of night 'for fresh air'. He had even left his mobile behind- he usually didn't do that in case Clary needed to get in touch. Clary didn't even realise that he had forgotten it until it started ringing from his room.

An internal battle ensued. Should Clary answer the phone? Technically, Luke had never told her not to… and it could be him ringing from a pay phone to see how she was, maybe he had forgotten her number so he rang his own… or, Clary argued, it could be Max again and he might have news about Jace. That decided it for her- Clary dashed into Luke's room and flung herself onto his bed as she reached out for the phone vibrating on his bedside locker.

"Hello?" she greeted breathlessly.

"Lucian?" A woman's voice quizzed. It sounded a little familiar, but the crackling phone line made it hard to distinguish.

"Ehhh, no," the redhead sounded out. "Can I take a message?"

"Is this Clary?" the voice asked. A voice with a slight lilt, and a smooth flowing quality.

"Madeleine?"

"Clary, thank the Angel! I was worried, why are you not here?" she asked quickly.

Clary's forehead scrunched up in confusion as she pulled herself up on Luke's bed. The covers crinkled up around her feet as they were dragged up beneath her movements. "Why am I not where? I don't really understand, Madeleine."

"Here, in France. With… Oh no, Lucian didn't tell you did he?"

Clary felt her stomach drop. Whatever Luke hadn't told her was obviously something of great importance. Clary could feel emotions that she couldn't decipher wash over her like a cold wave.

"What? What didn't Luke tell me, Madeleine? What's going on?" Already her voice had become frantic. The breath in her lungs become rapid as her heart sped up. Yet, somehow, speaking to Madeleine on the phone came much easier to her to it did in person. It was easier when she didn't have to see her face.

"I rang him two hours ago… I thought you would be here by now, but are you trying to tell me that you both still in New York?" Madeleine's garbled voice rushed down the phone.

"I have no idea what you are talking about Madeleine, but you're starting to really worry me. Of course I'm in New York, I live here. What is all this about?" Clary walked out of Luke's bedroom and into the kitchen. She peered out of the window onto the street below- where was Luke, and what was he hiding from her?

"Jace," Madeleine said. "Jace is here, Clary. In France. I told Luke and he said that he was going to tell you…"

Clary felt her heart drop too. Jace… Jace was finally within her reach, he was so close that she could almost see him. They were continents apart, but that didn't matter because she now knew where he was. That was the only thing that mattered now. He was the only thing that mattered.

"He didn't… Luke never told me. Is Jace okay? Is he alright?"

"He's fine, Clarissa- calm down. It took a lot of effort on our behalf to convince him to stay the night, but he is still here. I thought you would be here by now, he is adamant that he is leaving in the morning. As soon as I saw him I knew who he was, the first thing I did was try to get him to go home to you. When that didn't work I tried to get you to him."

"But… why didn't he tell me? I don't understand why Luke wouldn't tell me!" Clary cried. She could expect this from the Lightwoods, but not Luke. Luke was supposed to understand- he knew that she needed Jace, he knew how torn up she was. So what kind of possible, plausible reason could he have for not acting on Madeleine's call?

Clary could hear the other woman's sigh resonate down the phone line. "Lucian cares about you very very much, Clary. He loves you like he would love his own daughter… he doesn't want to see you get hurt-"

"But I am hurt!" Clary protested shrilly. "I'm hurt without him! I need him back!"

"Yes, but in Lucian's eyes it was Jace that led to you being so hurt. He sees Jace as a threat to you and your happiness, he has his reasons Clarissa. They may not yield great results and they may not be the right attitude to take, but it is justified- in Lucian's mind at any rate." Madeleine's tone was claming and soothing as she tried to explain the workings of Luke's mind to the distraught girl that was Clarissa Fray.

Clary's mind was racing as fast as her heart. She felt an odd sense of vertigo, as though she was going to fall off some massive height. As she held Luke's phone to her ear, Clary raced into her own room and grabbed some money.

"Jace is still with you?" she asked.

"Yes, he is staying at our Institute here in France. I text the address to Lucian earlier when I realised that he might have forgotten it since we spoke at the apartment. France is a big country- not as big as yours- but I thought that the correct address would help."

"Okay, keep Jace there. Do not let him leave- I don't care if you have to tie him up or lock him in a cupboard or drug him, just keep him there where it's safe. Where he is safe."

"Clary, what are you-"

"Don't worry Madeleine, just keep him there. I have to go. And thank you, thank you so much," Clary rushed as she hung up to the sound of Madeleine's protesting voice. Quickly, Clary scrolled through Luke's text messages- and she didn't feel one ounce of guilt for her actions. Before slamming the door shut, Clary raced up to the notepad affixed to the fridge. Under the shopping list she wrote a hasty message and fled out the door.

Two minutes later, she was standing on the street hailing a taxi. All Jace had to do was wait- if he wouldn't come to her, she would go to him.


	39. Chapter 39

**Stupid school- I know I haven't replied to reviews yet, but as soon as I manage to get some time I promise that I will!! Thank you so much for reviewing =]**

* * *

Luke sighed and gently hit his head off the door jamb, leaning there for a second. Was he doing the right thing? To be honest, he didn't really know. Attempting to clear his mind by going for a walk had not worked at all. But it would be okay, all he had to do was phone the Lightwoods and then his part was over. He would hand the case over to them- so to speak. They could catch Jace, he would come home (maybe) and the Lightwoods would tell him that Jace was fine. Case closed, loyalty to Jocelyn upheld… but what about his loyalty to Clary? No, that didn't matter- Clary would be safer this way and more protected, that was the only thing of importance.

Luke exhaled loudly, and wearily turned the key in his door as he plastered a fake smile on his face. "Hey Clary, how are you? Want some-"

Luke paused mid-sentence. Why was the television switched off? And the lights? His home was shrouded in complete darkness.

"Clary?" he called tentatively. There was no answer, and as soon as he opened all the doors to his empty rooms- he realised that there was no way there could be an answer. How can someone answer if they aren't there? Luke snatched his phone off the table and reached for his keys. Suddenly, the familiar image of Clary's handwriting flashed across the corner of his eye.

****

Shopping: biscuits, cheese, soap

But it was the piece below that which caught his attention.

****

Luke,

I know. You know what I mean. I'm going to fix this.

Clary x

Luke cursed and ran his hands through his hair roughly. Clearly, he had made the wrong decision. The ridiculously, fatally wrong decision. And Clary thought that she was the one who kept screwing up. Oh no, not by a long shot. Now where would Clary go? Surely she wasn't crazy enough to try going to the airport? No… Clary would be much smarter then that. Then it clicked- Luke grabbed his keys quickly and sprinted down the stairs again.

Clary needed to get to one Institute, and she was going to try to get to it through another one.

* * *

"Come on," Clary muttered. "Come. On."

She pulled out her stele as she wracked her brain for the right symbol. Just a simple opening rune- but she was so mixed up and emotional that the image had vanished clean out of her head. All the way over in the cab, she had been trying to think of it but it just wouldn't come to her- it was lost in the tumultuous sea of her thoughts and had been tossed around and possibly drowned. Clary could not remember the symbol at all. All she could remember was Jace. Him and him alone.

But maybe that could help? Clary cast her mind back to a memory that seemed to have happened a lifetime ago- a time when things were considerably more joyful. There was a large Gothic church, located on Diamond Street and it had shone celestially in the light of the moon. Jace was there, beneath the moonlight as it turned his hair a silvery colour and highlighted the scars on his strong hands. Now what had he said?

__

"In the name of the Clave, I ask entry to this place…"

Clary found herself repeating the words aloud as the memory reel played in her mind. Hesitantly, as if it did not want to open at all, the door to the Institute swung over. Clary grinned in victory even though she knew that this was a very inferior battle to face compared to what would greet her inside. The elevator creaked noisily as she clambered into the metal cage and felt it groan as it carried her to the top. As soon as Clary exited the black birdcage that was the elevator, she heard a very loud and hostile hiss. Church. Just great.

"Hello Church," Clary whispered. "Shhhh, keep quiet now, good cat."

Church shot her a scathing look and yowled loudly before fleeing in the direction of the kitchen. Clary inwardly cursed. Stupid cat.

"Clary!" The redhead whirled around, wincing.

"Max!" she whispered, thanking her lucky stars that it wasn't one of his siblings who had stumbled upon her. "I need your help, I know where-"

"What in the name of the Angel is _she _doing here?!" Isabelle snarled loudly, Alec at her heels looking murderous.

"Get out," he said. "You do _not _belong here."

"I can explain!" Clary protested. "Please, I know-"

"You know that you aren't welcome, you little home wrecker. Get the hell out of my home," Isabelle snapped imperiously, looking every inch the terrifying goddess that she was.

"Izzy," Max moaned. "You're being really mean again."

"I know where Jace is," Clary blurted out.

"What?" Isabelle shrieked.

"Tell us where he is, Fray," Alec demanded.

"First off- my name is Clary. And secondly- I am not telling you a thing until you assure me that I can come with you to help get Jace back."

"Why you little-"

"Oh Isabelle, stop with the slurs on my name, it is getting you absolutely nowhere," Clary retorted tempestuously. She could feel the anger inside her flare impressively.

"Then let's negotiate," Alec proffered smoothly. "I take it you remember where our kitchen is?"

It didn't go unnoticed to Clary that the word 'our' was emphasised, she gritted her teeth and followed the Lightwoods. Now was not the time for petty feuds- time was running out and she needed to get to Jace.

"Look," Clary began as she sat down. "I know I'm not exactly your favourite person right now-"

Isabelle snorted, and Clary wondered how she managed to do such an action and still seem so perfect and feminine.

"But, I do care about Jace. I won't tell you where he is unless I get to go with you. I know that sounds demanding and unreasonable to you, but nothing I do could possibly make me look any worse in your books anyway."

"Then why are you here, just to use us to get to him?" Isabelle bit in a sarky tone.

Clary sighed and looked at the table beneath her arms. "I could have done this alone- I could have gone to Magnus alone, I could have gone to Jace alone and not have even bothered to tell you at all. But I know that you are family and I know how much you care for him- I'm not here for myself, I'm here for you because it's the decent thing to do. Nothing is holding me here, nobody is forcing me to tell you anything- I just thought I would come here first because I wanted to help you. All that matters is getting Jace back, so can we just work together for a few short hours and then you can go back to hating my guts."

The Lightwoods stayed silent, staring at the tabletop with downcast eyes. Clary wondered if they felt guilty, at moments like this it certainly seemed like it. But she could be wrong. Essentially, she knew that the Lightwoods were good people and she couldn't begrudge them for the way they treated her. Clary herself knew that she wouldn't take too kindly to anyone who had hurt her family either.

"He's in France, this is the address," Clary said lowly, pushing her phone across the table.

Isabelle looked up in surprise with her forehead creasing up. Alec turned his attention to her with incredulity written across his features.

"But we never said that you could come," Isabelle said in confusion as her long, slender fingers wrapped around Clary's mobile.

Clary shrugged. "Yeah, I know. But, he's probably going to want to see you guys anyway. I can get there some other way, I just thought… it doesn't matter, I hope you find him. I might even see you there- just, just make sure that he's okay."

"Alec, ring Magnus," Isabelle said, staring at Clary in a peculiar manner. "If he complains tell him I'll pay."

The petite redhead pushed her chair back soundlessly from the table, and turned to leave.

"Where do you think you're going?" Isabelle asked, narrowing her eyes at the only other girl in the room.

"To find someone who can get me to France," she said in a small voice.

"No you aren't," Isabelle corrected. "You're coming with us."

Clary felt a small smile creep up her face slowly as she softly whispered her thanks.


	40. Chapter 40

**Wow, I'm sorry these updates are becoming less and less frequent!!! =( School is evil, and now I am studying for my driving test too. But don't worry, there isn't many chapters left in this story now, I promise (I never believed that there would actually be this many, I'm shocked!)  
Thank you so so much to everyone reviewing and I hope you understand why I am not writing back to you due to all the busy-ness! Your reviews really do mean so much, and as soon as I get a free minute I promise I will write back and express my thanks properly! Well, here is the next chapter- and yes, Clary and Jace will meet in the next one. I promise! I really do hope to draw this story to a close soon- there won't be much more after I write the "Reunion" =] Thank you once again everyone =]**

* * *

"Clary! Clary, get out here! Clary!"

"I'm sorry, who were you looking for?" Magnus drawled. "I don't think people in China heard you, Graymark."

Luke growled. "Please tell me you aren't for the reason I think you are," he groaned.

"I am here," Magnus said with a rise of his glittery eyebrow. "Because I am getting paid to be here… that, and Alec asked me to come."

A loud creaking filled the air, the sound of the elevator in all it's ancient glory. Magnus winced slightly and turned his head to the side, his startling eyes flashing in the dim moonlight. At the fore as the door slid open were Alec and Isabelle, the light breeze blew back their hair. It made them look even more like supermodels then usual with their perfectly windswept, inky, raven coloured locks. At the back were Clary and Max.

"You can't stop me from going," Clary said in a rush, looking directly at Luke.

The corner of Luke's mouth twitched upwards wryly. He knew now that he had to do this for Clary, it was better then risking losing her forever. Luke wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed reassuringly. "I wouldn't even think of it."

"Tearful reunions later," Isabelle snapped- but this time it wasn't hostility in her tone, it was just anxiety and impatience. "We need to get to Jace."

"No wonder that boy is so egotistical," Magnus murmured. "It is a trait that has clearly been well nurtured."

Isabelle growled, and critically glared at his extravagant outfit of purple satin jacket teamed with indigo, diamante studded jeans. "Can you get us to France or not, Warlock?"

Clary laid her hand softly on Izzy's arm, aware that the Shadowhunter's huge anxiety was obviously making her overly tetchy. The least she could do, Clary reasoned, was try to comfort the other girl. After all- Isabelle was probably feeling the all-consuming maelstrom of whirling emotions that Clary was experiencing herself. Well, maybe not exactly how Clary felt. Isabelle felt how Clary _should _feel- she felt like his sister and cared about Jace as though he were her brother. Clary couldn't say the same for herself.

"Of course I can," Magnus said flippantly. "Although I don't see why aeroplanes are so beneath Shadowhunters…"

"You know that would take too long, Magnus. This is the address," Clary said softly, passing the High Warlock her phone.

He nodded curtly. "You better not get travelsick," he warned with a point of his bejewelled finger.

They all nodded, half thinking that he was joking. It was a quiet night as they waited for Magnus to do what he did best. The clouds obstructed the hazy light of the moon, and the city seemed almost silent. Suddenly Clary felt the ground disappear from beneath her feet. She felt like she had been sucked into a black hole of oblivion, chronic dizziness made her knees buckle and loud sounds rushed in her ears like the roar of a huge wave. The seconds all melded together and Clary had no sense of time as she prayed for the awful sensation to stop. She felt like she had been bundled up inside some huge washing machine and someone had pressed 'spin'. Abruptly, the copper-haired girl found herself sprawled on the floor. An unfamiliar floor in an unfamiliar place. The world seemed to tilt on its axis and Clary raised an unsteady hand to her forehead. Looking around, she realised that Magnus was the only one still standing, there was a deep smirk fixed on his face.

The room they were in was a warm and cosy. There were wooden furniture pieces set into the cream walls, and a television in front of a couch. Clary could smell the soft scent of candles as she unsteadily clambered to her feet.

"Ah! Thank the Angel! Clary, Lucian- how are you? And, the Lightwoods I presume?"

Clary offered Madeleine a small, distracted smile. More then anything, she was relieved that they were in the right place. She didn't imagine that any Mundanes would take too kindly to finding this particular group of strangers lying in their sitting room.

"Where's Jace?" she asked hastily, disregarding all general formalities.

"Don't worry, Clarissa," Madeleine assured. "He is asleep- we, eh, gave him something to make sure that he stayed that way… it might be a while before he wakes up. Why don't you come into the kitchen for something to drink?"

"No, I want to see him," Isabelle said. Alec nodded vehemently in agreement.

"That's perfectly fine," Madeleine replied, not in the least bit affronted. "He's just upstairs. I'll get one of the boys to bring you while I put on the kettle."

Madeleine bustled over to the door jamb and shouted up the stairs. It sounded something like "Lay gar" but Clary didn't understand what the words meant. Madeleine brushed Clary's arm tenderly as she walked back into the kitchen, and she shot Luke a warm smile. Clary could see her maternal instincts dominate as she led Magnus to the table and engaged Max in friendly talk.

Three boys trooped down the steps lithely, and Clary spun around as she heard the noise. Her heart dropped when she realised it wasn't Jace. They were all young teenagers, she thought. One had dusty blonde hair with black tips that were stood up prominently on his head thanks to a liberal amount of hair gel. Beside him stood a shorter boy with brown hair tipped in ruby red, lastly was a younger boy with brown hair and tanned skin. The two boys with brown hair gave a small wave and a smile, the blonde stood straight with his arms folded- he reminded Clary of Jace, but this boy was _trying _and_ pretending _to be tough, it came naturally to Jace and therein lay the big difference.

"Julien," Madeleine called over her shoulder as she busied herself with the kettle. "Could you bring our visitors upstairs to Jace."

"He sleeps," the blonde with the black-tipped hair scowled in a heavily accented voice.

"I know that, Julien, but they would still like to see him."

The three Lightwoods stepped forward, and the boy briskly turned to the stairs without speaking to them or acknowledging them further.

"I'll go up later," Clary murmured despondently. She didn't want to ruin their 'family time' and she knew she wasn't wanted. Clary was desperately vying to go up those stairs. More then anything else in the world she wanted to see his face again. She needed to apologise, she needed Jace back. It was all she needed, and it was so close but still seemed so far.

"Thank you for calling us, Madeleine," Clary mumbled. "It means a lot."

"Not at all, everyone is actually very sorry to see him leave. He has done great work here. The boys adore him, which may be why you get some glares sent your way." Madeleine chuckled as she poured the tea. Magnus declined, and zapped up something extravagant and colourful in a champagne flute instead- their host simply smiled.

"How do you mean?" Luke asked. "What work?"

"He has been training our boys, and helping Jacques with his English. Even though Jace has only been here for a few days, the boys have come along spectacularly under his care."

Creaking sounded on the stairs again only fifteen minutes later, and the Lightwoods reappeared with the three boys. Clary couldn't decide whether they looked relieved or upset… or maybe a mixture of both. It took all of Clary's strength and will to keep from dashing up the stairs taking them four at a time.

"What did you give him?" Alec asked hollowly.

"I've never seen him sleep so deeply," Isabelle chimed in.

"You better not have hurt him with it," Alec added with a steely glint in his eyes.

Madeleine clucked with a click of her tongue. "Now, now. We would never hurt Jace, he is very important to us and has helped the boys greatly while I was away on business. It was just a simple sleeping draught, a tiny drop of magic… well, more then a tiny drop, but he will be fine."

"Magnus," Alec said, wearily running a hand over his face. "Can you wake him up? I want to get back to the Institute as soon as possible."

"No can do," Magnus responded. "You'll just have to wait for it to wear off, I don't want to overload his system with magic. Just bring him while he is asleep."

"No," Alec sighed. "He wouldn't take kindly to that- it would be underhand and low. We need to convince him to come back or he won't come with us at all."

"Well if you like, Jacques will show you around our Institute? Wouldn't you Jacques?" It was then that Clary heard the outside door close, and a snowy haired man popped his head around the corner.

"We are having the visitors!" he exclaimed. "Welcome to you all."

"Hello," came the response from all at the crowded table.

"Would you show the Lightwoods and their friends around?" Madeleine asked. "Just until Jace wakes up."

"I would be delighted," he beamed, causing the skin around his eyes to crinkle and wrinkle. "Any friend of Jace is a friend of us, he has been very excellent to us. I would love to be showing you around, please follow me. I would like to get to know you."

Clary stood with Magnus and the Lightwoods, ready to follow the kindly older man. Perhaps this was the Jacques that Madeleine had mentioned earlier? He certainly sounded as though he needed some help with his English. Whoever he was, he was animatedly talking about weapons and architecture- and Clary guessed that visiting Jace would not be part of his tour. It wasn't her place to ask for him though, and Clary decided not to say anything- even though that felt like a cruel blow to herself more then anything else. Just as Clary was about to take up the end of the tour, she felt a hand softly latch around her arm and pull her back, Madeleine shook her head negatively with a smile.

"Why don't you come with me?" she said kindly.

"Where to?" Clary asked. All she wanted to do was see Jace, that was all. Why would nobody let her? He was so close- just up those damn stairs.

"Upstairs, Clary. To Jace."


	41. Chapter 41

**Sooooo.... I am sad...... This is, alas, the end. I feel like this story has gone on too long (41 chapters- yikes!) And as you know, I never had a plan for this story, I just made it up one chapter at a time. So I think it's about time to draw it to a close =(  
The main thing I want to say is thank you. Thank you so much to everyone who read this, to everyone who commented and reviewed and to everyone who stuck with it! Knowing that you liked this story meant so much to me! Those reviews that i always found in my inbox absolutely made my day and I am so honoured by them. So Thank You, I hope you enjoy this one... xxx**

* * *

Clary let Madeleine guide her up the stairs, and down a corridor lined with candles. There were soft landscapes and portraits in pastels lining the cream painted walls, they were framed in gilded rectangles. The candles and their soft shadows gave the place a homely, warm feeling and helped Clary to relax slightly. The butterflies in her stomach had started to fight violent wars and she found herself nervously clamping her teeth down on her chapped lower lip.

"Just in here," Madeleine said, motioning towards a wooden door.

Clary's heart began thumping loudly against her chest, it was almost painful. He was just through the door. The door that Madeleine was opening gently with a smile directed at Clary. And then Clary's heart stopped altogether. A chandelier dangled from the ceiling casting light on the huge mass of beds in the room. It reminded her of the Institute in New York- _we can house up to two thousand_, Jace had commented. Now this Institute was housing him. Under the light of the chandelier, on a bed in the middle of the room, lay Jace- his dusty golden hair spilling onto the white pillow. There were blankets drawn around him, and his chest gently rose and fell with the soft sound of his breathing.

"How- how long will he be asleep for?" Clary's voice choked out.

"Not very long, I thought you wanted to be alone with him so I told the Lightwoods a little white lie. He should wake up in a few minutes."

"Why are you doing this for me?" The teenager asked in confusion. "They are his family, they should be with him."

"Yes, but he wants you. I only met Jace for a grand total of ten minutes and I could see that. Jace is struggling, Clary. His heart is telling him to do one thing, and his head another. His heart is saying that he wants you, but his head is saying that he should be alone. He thinks that love is going to destroy him, but if he keeps going like this he is going to destroy himself. I firmly believe that you are the only one who can get through to him, even if it's difficult."

"I… Valentine, Valentine told him that. To love is to destroy. Jace… Jace can't help believing it."

"I know, I can see that it has been drummed into him," Madeleine said sadly. "But he cares for you, whether he wants to or not. He will be awake in a few minutes, Clary. Just try to talk to him. He will probably be slightly disorientated and drowsy when he wakes up. Jacques will take care of the others, you just do what you have to do."

The door clicked shut before Clary had a chance to offer her thanks. The butterflies protested loudly from the depths of her stomach, and with a very hesitant movement she stepped forward. Slow steps that would bring her to him.

Clary sat tentatively on the edge of the bed. She could just see his face peeking out from beneath the covers, and for a change he looked entirely peaceful. The cold and cruel stare that had been imprinted on her mind was gone, as was the conflicted pain. Clary reached out and gently grazed her hand over his soft hair.

He was real.

Clary's breath hitched in her throat. She wasn't dreaming this time, this was reality. On the bedside locker, Clary was shocked to find her portrait of them. She wondered what Jace had thought when he saw it- had he laughed scornfully at her pathetic desires of apologising? Why wasn't it scrunched up and lying in a bin somewhere?

"I really am sorry, Jace," Clary murmured. "I wish you understood that. I'm going to try to make you understand- we want you to come home. We _need _you to come home, Jace."

With each soft whisper, Clary let her fingers run though his golden hair. It was longer now then it had been, Isabelle would probably tell him to cut it. The seconds melted away under the gentle light of the chandelier, and Clary felt better just because she was at his side. It was a strange reassurance, just being close to him made her fears and anxieties drift away. The pain weighing heavy on her shoulders dropped away like the gentle movement of a leaf taken by the wind. She felt like she could breathe again, she felt better. As usual, the niggling thoughts lying latent in her subconscious told her that it was wrong. They told her that she shouldn't feel this way, they told her to leave and to get away… but something else overpowered them, something that vehemently told her to stay. So Clary weakly obeyed, continuing to toy with his hair as the thoughts whirled around in her troubled mind.

Then he moved. The motionless hair beneath her fingers shifted gently as Jace turned his body. Her hands froze as she watched his eyes slowly flutter open. For a few silent seconds, Jace and Clary just looked at each other.

"Hey," Jace said finally.

"Hey," Clary whispered back, in complete shock that he hadn't stormed out of the room shooting her dirty looks as he did so. Maybe the sleeping draught had done some damage to his head, she thought.

"You seem very real this time," he mused in a sleepy voice.

"What do you mean?" Clary whispered again in confusion, her fingers combing lightly through his hair again.

"You never leave me alone, do you? Not even when I sleep… always there… haunting me. You have to stop Clary, that's why I left. I don't want to destroy you… have to leave. Please."

His tone was desperate and tainted with the shadow of deep sleep that had not yet faded. It hurt Clary more then she would like to admit to see him like this. "I don't want you to leave Jace, please come back. I need you. I really do."

He gave a soft chuckle through the haze of sleep. "You changed your tune. Supposed to tell me you hate me, I'm a failure- like usual."

"Jace, you are not a failure. I could never hate you. I want you to come back, I need you to come back… as soon as you wake up properly I want to apologise."

Jace blinked five times while Clary counted the action, and kept running her fingers through his hair. It let her stay close to him, it gave her something concrete to do.

"You really are here, aren't you?" he said softly. "It's you, isn't it Clary?"

"I'm really here, Jace. I so sor-"

"Don't say it. Just get out," Jace bit sharply. The confusing cloud of sleep had completely vacated his mind, Jace's eyes were focused now and he was undoubtedly fully awake.

Clary watched the light cast shadows under his eyes and highlight all those silvery scars that marred his skin. The signs of a Shadowhunter, the battle wounds of a soldier. A warrior- the epitome of independence and power. Clary felt desperation close in on her, he was sticking to his guns- adamantly telling her what she already knew: that he did not want her in any way, shape or form… but that didn't stop her wanting him. And Clary wouldn't let that fact stop her from trying, even if it was selfish.

"No, Jace," the redhead said forcefully, coming across braver then she felt. "Just let me apologise, I know that you don't really want me to leave, not really. Jace, please."

"Clary," Jace sat up quickly, a deep scowl of frustration, anger and pain was etched into his face. "For the love of the Angel, they had to _drug _me to make me stay here! Doesn't that tell you _anything_?!"

"It tells me that Valentine Morgenstern had entirely too much of an influence on you when you were growing up, because any fool can see that love is not something to be feared or loathed," Clary snapped, glaring at him from where she sat at his side. As soon as the words had been spoken, Clary knew that her tempestuous nature had gotten her into trouble again. This had certainly not been the best of starts, he had only been awake for a number of seconds and they were already arguing. _Nice one Clarissa, this is really going to convince him that he wants to come home._

"Don't you **dare **bring my father into this," Jace hissed viciously.

"Well then what about the Lightwoods?" Clary retorted. "Do you know how much they are hurting because of this?"

Jace inhaled sharply and his jaw set rigidly around his gritted teeth. "This has nothing to do with them," he ground out. "You made your choice, Clarissa. So deal with the damn consequences and go back to where you are wanted."

"They don't want me," she cried. "They want you! _I_ want you- god, Jace, I need you! Stop being so stubborn and come home!"

Jace scoffed sadistically. "And I suppose you know where that is, do you?"

Clary's eyes watered and she bit down on her lip again. "In New York… where I know that you are safe and I don't have to worry about you. I know I did terrible things, Jace… but I didn't mean them, I never wanted to hurt you and I'm pretty sure that you never wanted to hurt me either- so, please, let me apologise and come back with me."

Jace rubbed his eyes fiercely with the palms of his hands. "By the Angel, Clary. It's not that simple and you know it! Things went too far, we… no matter what we do, it's going to hurt. Can't you see that? Maybe Valentine did have too much of an influence on me- I am damaged Clary, so why can't you just leave me be? This is only hurting both of us even more."

"Can't hurt as much as being without you," she murmured.

"You don't mean that."

"Yes I do. I feel broken and ripped apart, and I need you. I hate how desperate and pathetic I sound, but I need you. Things are never simple and life isn't easy, but can't we just try?" Clary could feel the emotion closing up her throat as though there were some kind of rock lodged in it. She had to make him understand. "That woman tricked me, Jace! I know that it was me who said those words but she fooled me, I wasn't thinking straight! I didn't-"

"Clary, please stop," Jace said wearily. "You and I both know that it's more then just that. I can't… I _can't_ be your brother. It drives me crazy… you… I don't even know what I'm trying to say anymore. You get into my head and refuse to leave me alone- you're there when I sleep, when I'm awake, while I'm dreaming- everywhere all the time! You are right there but I still can't be with you, I still can't be who I want to be. And it hurts, Clary- even I am going to admit to that. Do you honestly think that it won't hurt just as much or even more if I go back in New York?"

"I don't _want_ you to be my brother… but I would rather suffer through that, then hate not having you near me at all. It won't hurt." She knew even as she said the words that she was lying in her desperation.

Suddenly Jace was leaning forward, in towards her. And Clary barely registered the low murmur of his voice even though it was the only sound filling her ears.

"So you think," he breathed. "That whenever we're in the same room, or whenever you see me- that it won't hurt."

Clary nodded mutely, her heart thumped erratically and she tried to keep breathing. "It won't hurt," she whispered.

"Not even," Jace said lightly. "When this happens?"

He moved even closer again, so much so that their faces were almost touching. He was all she could see, his handsome face and his bright eyes were all she could focus on. Nothing else mattered. This was joy and rushing happiness- this was them, together. It felt right.

But then, it felt so wrong. She shouldn't feel the rushing emotions, she shouldn't want to close the space between them. Clary knew that she shouldn't want any of this. And as the sight, sound and smell of Jace flooded her sense- she drew back and gasped lightly.

"You see?" Jace said, with an odd hint of satisfaction. He had been right, but she could tell by the burning in his eyes that the entire show had wounded him too. A rusty stab wound to an already injured heart. It cut through them both- damaged by the same weapon, wielded by the same force. Hurt by love.

"I can't come back, Clary… I won't hurt you, or myself. I'm not that much of a masochist." He still hadn't pulled away from her, his minty breath washed over her face.

"I can't do this," he said softly. He inched closer in one fluid movement and pressed his lips to her cheek, the very side of her face. Clary swallowed a breath that she did not know she had been holding. His soft lips lingered on her clammy skin and scorched it with deep fire. It made her want to reciprocate the action. It made her want to cry.

"And I can't be your brother," he continued, finally releasing her. The sensation on her skin continued to burn as a heavy reminder.

"I can't come back, Clary," Jace finished firmly. His voice tried to convince her that this was what he wanted, but hidden deep in his butterscotch irises was a sense of misery that he could not hide.

"You can, you can come back," Clary reiterated, rubbing her hand over his. "We can work through this, it will all be okay. We'll find a way to work this out. You either come with me, or I go with you."

Jace snatched his hand away and hid his face in his hands. "You don't _mean _that!" he groaned in a tortured tone.

"I do," she replied firmly in anguish. "Just please come back to New York. For me, or the Lightwoods- I don't care why, just don't leave."

"Clary, I don't-"

"Jace!"

The two teenagers sitting on the bed whirled around. In the doorway stood Max Lightwood grinning spectacularly. The moment had passed, the weight of it all crashed down on top of the redhead with the brimming eyes filled with wild desperation.

"Jace?!" His siblings came running into the room with catlike grace in a flash of raven hair.

Clary turned away and could feel her eyes tear up. She pushed herself up off the bed and made to walk away. No one stopped her.

"Hey, Clary?" It was Isabelle. "I'm sorry for the way we treated you, we both are… I mean that, it was wrong and cruel… We owe you. Thanks for helping us to get him back."

Clary didn't even bother to answer. She walked out of the room, trying to block out the sound of their happiness as they talked. Her copper curls flew out around her as Clary ran from the room and fled down the hall. She didn't know where she was going, but she didn't stop until she had opened a door and hid herself inside. She leant against the cold wall and sucked in deep breaths as she bent over to clutch her head in her trembling hands.

"Hello. You are the girl?"

A heavily accented voice broke through the silence filled with the thumping of her own heart. A heart that had been bruised and wounded, then salted and hit. A heart just like his.

The voice belonged to one of the French boys she had glimpsed earlier. He had brown hair with red tips. "You are the girl who Jace has spoken of? Are you his girlfriend?" he asked, stumbling over his words in an unsure manner. "He says it not simples, but he cares for you. He is a good people."

"I'm not his girlfriend," Clary said with a dry chuckle that grated on her throat. It was a humourless bark of laughter that bit through her unshed tears. "I don't know who I am. I just want him to come home."

The boy nodded thoughtfully. "I thinks he will go. Maybe not at this moments, but perhaps in the future."

"The future isn't good enough," she whispered. "I need him now."

"But he needs you too," the boy argued. "We thinks he not yet realises it, but we believe that he will soon. He is good to us, we hopes he go with you."

Clary nodded. Looking around, she realised that she was in some kind of training room- there were blue mats made of foam thrown around on the floor. Plastic bottles of water were discarded at her feet and she kicked one in an act of frustration. Jace didn't want her, she was hurting him, it was all just too much of a mess. They had gone too far. It wasn't fair anymore. It never had been, but now it was worse. Jace didn't want her apologies, he didn't want her to hurt him any longer, and Clary couldn't blame him.

"It's too late for hope now," she told the boy in front of her honestly. He seemed like a nice person- genuine and kind. Jace could have been happy here if she hadn't asked Madeleine to mess it up for him. "I'm sorry I took him away from you too."

Clary straightened up and ran a thumbnail under her eye to rub away the dampness of her contained tears. She shot the boy a weak smile and turned out the door again. She slipped past the door where the Shadowhunters crowded around Jace's bed. Four Shadowhunters- four of the best in the one room. They were family. She didn't belong there, Clary wasn't a Shadowhunter. Clary was a girl that went to discos and stupid poetry readings with her best friend. It didn't matter that she didn't feel like that person anymore, it didn't matter that she had irreparably damaged Simon too- she just had to get back to that life. A mundane life. Away from everything that had happened in the past months.

"Magnus," she croaked, entering the unfamiliar kitchen. "Could you bring Luke and me home please?"

"Clary, darling, it would be much simpler to just wait for the others," he commented flippantly, returning to his fruity drink.

"Simple doesn't work for me," she said harshly. "So can you bring me home or do I have to walk to the nearest airport?"

Madeleine was looking at her sympathetically, and Luke had the phrase he was too kind to say written all over his face. _I told you so. I knew this would happen. _

Magnus sighed and rolled his eyes skyward. He mumbled something about teenage Shadowhunter dramatics. "Just let me finish this," he said, sipping on his straw.

Clary said nothing. She waited. She tried to stay strong. She held back the tears. Footsteps on the stairs made her wince.

"Magnus! Come on," Isabelle urged joyfully behind Clary's turned back. "We're going home, _all _of us!"

"Yeah, and we're going to come here on holidays so that we can see Jace's new friends," Max said exuberantly. "They have really cool hair and I'm going to train with them when we visit!"

"Clary?" A soft and haunted voice said lowly at her side. Beneath her jumper, Clarissa Fray could still feel his hand touch her forearm lightly. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

She nodded mutely, and followed the blonde out of the kitchen. As she left, Clary could feel both Luke and Madeleine's eyes boring holes in her back watching them. She didn't need to see their faces to know that one set of eyes was worried, while the other was hopeful. Her own eyes were lacklustre and dead, she didn't need to see them to know that either.

"You're coming back?" she asked hollowly.

"They managed to convince me."

"For how long?" Clary knew that she didn't need to specify what the question entailed. He wouldn't stay. He was letting them down gently. Jace would lock himself up in the Institute with his family and refuse to see her… and then he would leave because even being in the same city as her was too painful.

"I don't know," he admitted.

"Am I ever going to see you again?"

"I live in the Institute. Need somewhere to train as a Shadowhunter, don't you?" he said softly, avoiding her gaze.

"I'm not a Shadowhunter," Clary said.

"Yes you are. Look, Izzy and Alec didn't mean whatever they said- _you_ know how easy it is to say things in the heat of the moment."

"That was a low blow," she commented. Remaining detached was the key, Clary decided. Jace was going home for them, not her. She had been stupid to believe that he would forgive her, stupid to think any of the stupid things that she had been thinking.

"The trait must run in the family."

"When you say things like that, I have to agree."

Jace growled and smashed his leg into the wall in a ferocious kick. "Why are we doing this, Clary? Why are we doing it again? Hurting each other on purpose and acting like children? I am going back to New York, and yeah you're right- it will be hard and it will hurt. But don't think that I am only returning so that I can leave straight away. Don't think that just because I told them that I would come back… don't think that it wasn't for you too."

"So… you will try? You will come back, even though it hurts?" A tiny spark of hope alit deep within her chest.

Jace nodded minutely.

"Why?" Clary whispered.

"Maybe I'm more of a masochist then I thought… or maybe I can't stand being away from you either."

Clary gave a watery smile full of relief. This was it. It would hurt, and it would be hard- but she knew that they would somehow get through it. It had taken a long time to get this far, but suddenly that didn't matter when he said that he was going to stay. Clary clung to the feeling of relief washing over her, and disregarded the other implications that were sure to catch up with her later.

"Home?" she asked.

"Home," Jace agreed, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders for a few seconds and held her close before they stepped apart and returned to the kitchen. It was just on the edge of his boundaries- the contact that should have been innocent, one of the few acts that he could actually carry out under the guise of brotherly protection and affection.

It would be hard, Clary had been right about that. But somehow, he had to make it work… because leaving would hurt even more. It would hurt Clary, it would hurt Alec and Isabelle, it would hurt him. To leave would be a cowards way out- it would be the smart thing to do. But Jace didn't care so much for intelligence when it came to this particular situation. He stepped closer to the burning sun that lit up the room, he stood at Clary's side and happily risked getting burned by the strength of those flames. Somehow, he wasn't quite sure how yet, they would get through this.

Magnus brought them home once the second round of goodbyes and thanks were said, and the promises to return were made. Jace snared his arm around his sister's waist as they world stopped spinning and held her impossibly close. He felt her fit perfectly in his arms, he smelt the fragrant scent of her shampoo make him dizzy, and reluctantly released her.

To everyone else it looked like he was just protecting her from the impact of the hard ground.

But they knew better. They knew that they were living an existence of fleeting minutes, grabbed opportunities and secret looks. They knew why pain lingered in their eyes. They knew why they would travel to the ends of the earth for each other. They knew why love made you a liar.

Clary and Jace knew the truth.

More then anyone else, Clary and Jace knew why love could destroy you if only you let it.


	42. Author's Note

**This is a shout out to everyone who read and reviewed this story. (Also to those who added to favourites and subscribed to alerts) I just wanted to say once again- thank you so much. Your praise means so much to me, and I feel honoured and awed by all of you. All of you inspired and encouraged me to keep writing and this story would have been nothing without your support. **

**I would also like to thank all those who nominated To Love Or To Destroy for an award on Gema227's 2009 Mortal Instruments Fanfictions Awards in the discussion forums for doing so. To see my stories being nominated is huge praise (shocking, but huge!). So if you're one of the people who nominated any of my stories for any of the categories or if you nominated me for Best Author, I hope you understand how much it means to me =]**

_To those who who reviewed with questions and requests..._

**Jace rox my world** (not signed in)**- **I do have other stories published on this site, if you click on my name Raven-Rach you will be directed to my profile page and all my stories are listed there at the very bottom of the page. Thank you for reviewing, I'm glad you liked the story and hope you enjoy some of my others. =]

To those **asking for a sequel**- unfortunately because of exams I won't be able to write any more long fics like this. I will keep doing oneshots whenever I can though. Maybe in a few months or so I might think of doing a sequel. I'll keep you posted either here or on my profile page =]

To everyone asking for **a fic where Clary and Jace get together** like we all wish they would- I might do a few oneshots centered around this theme. I did try one- Invincibility and Love. You can find it on my profile page or on the Mortal Instruments thread itself.

**So, in conclusion lol- THANK YOU!!! Once my exams are over in the summer I hope to write another long fic (maybe not quite as long as this one, but you know what I mean) because I really miss the reviews and the challenge of trying to write one chapter every day... Blame school for my absence! **

**_Big thank you to everyone, it meant a lot to me and still does xoxox_**


	43. EXTREMELY IMPORTANT!

Hi everyone, Rach here =]

This, unfortunately, is not news of a new story- but please keep reading, because if you like my fics this is definitely very important.

I was going to post this on my profile but I didn't think many people would see it there, and I really want you guys to read this. I will probably delete it soon, but I'll leave it up for a few days or weeks so that most of you have a chance to see it. It's kind of like an author's note, I suppose.

This little message is to every single person who has read one of my stories, reviewed them, added to favourites/alerts or dropped in with PMs. I know I have said it many times before, but I don't think I can ever say it enough- **THANK YOU!!**

I'm turning _eighteen_ on the _15th__ of May_, and I was just thinking about the past year. To be honest, some parts of it weren't all that great! Maybe that was why I got so motivated to start and keep writing fanfics on this site. You guys were constantly so encouraging and inspiring, and that really does mean so so much to me. I actually can't tell you guys or express to you just how much it means! The fact that I can't write much anymore thanks to schoolwork makes me feel like such a traitor! =(

All of my reviewers are so important to me, and there really are too many of you to name but you know who you are. Some of you (you know who) have reviewed every single one of my stories in a particular category, you guys should know that you put huuuuuge smiles on my face! Sometimes it's only a few words or a single sentence, but every single review is so appreciated.

The Mortal Instruments 2009 Awards- what can I say- the fact that so many of you nominated me overwhelms and shocks me and I am honoured that you think I could even deserve to be nominated.

I myself have a dedication to everyone on fanfic who has reviewed, added to alerts and favourites and read my stories and nominated me for awards on my Bebo page to show everyone how great you guys are =] But let's be honest, _great_ is a massive understatement!

I would also like to give a personal shout out to the most fantastic girl in the world, who goes by the name of **Aine** (_XxAinexX_ she is in my favourite authors on my profile) She is a wonderful, talented writer and the best friend anyone could ask for- seriously, I should bow down before her but I'm too sarcastic and I would laugh too much! She would probably tell me to cop on anyway, but she is truly amazing and deserves an entire book written about her not just a little paragraph here. =]

So yeah, that is the end of my soppy and emotional address to you all. I guess I'm just getting nostalgic as I approach the big One-Eight!! As my younger cousin (aged 16 lol!!) told me today: you're getting old Rach!! I guess reminiscing and nostalgia come with age!! Lol =P

Once again, thank you all for being so unbelievably fantastic! You have made my day, my week and my month on so many occasions by following my stories- yeah, you guys pretty much made my year of being seventeen at times! So thank you =] I really can never say it enough!

Raven-Rach xxxx


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